


Sideshow

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duo visited Trowa a few times every year, catching up to the circus on one colony or another and showing up uninvited and unannounced in Trowa's trailer.<br/>But an unexpected confession from Duo leads to a change in the nature of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: I… I know. I really don’t need to be starting another series. But everything else was a little daunting for me to tackle tonight and I just… needed to get this down.  
A/N #2: I am NOT an expert on BDSM. 

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter One

For a backwater colony suffering from the post-war economic depression, the crowds at the circus had been large. This was the third night of the two week run the circus had scheduled, and already they had made back all of the cost for travel and provisions.  
As far as August, the Ringmaster, was concerned, M3465 would be on a stop the circus revisited often.  
Trowa couldn’t blame him. The colony was dull as dirt - the only “night life” to speak of was a bar near the ‘port where Trowa had gone last night to have a few drinks with the dock workers. The circus was probably the most entertainment most of these colonists had ever experienced, aside from those damn festivals every year to commemorate the end of the war.  
Still, Trowa wouldn’t be sorry to move on to the next stop, M3281, where he had an arrangement with a local who was definitely not dull as dirt.  
After looking in on the animals - and avoiding Pesha, the bull of a man who looked after them and had threatened to beat Trowa senseless if he caught him sitting in the cage with the lions again - Trowa headed back to his trailer for the night.  
He unlocked his door and stepped up. He was grateful that Cathy had started to shack up with Besnik, the contortionist. He loved Cathy, but she tended to hover, and Trowa wasn’t really in the mood to be hovered over these days.  
Not that he necessarily had ever been in the mood for that, but when he had been younger he had been more receptive to it. He had craved her attention, even if he had been unable to admit it to either himself or to her, and he appreciated her sense of protectiveness and her affection for him. She had seen him through some very dark times, and he owed her his life several times over.  
After the war, Trowa had been approached first by Zechs and Noin, inviting him to tag along to Mars, and, after he had refused them, Une had asked him to join the Preventers. Trowa had considered it briefly, had allowed Une to try to woo him with a large salary and all kinds of job benefits that he imagined were impressive to the bureaucrats and soldiers she was used to recruiting, but after speaking to Wufei and Heero, after learning how frustrating the work could be, after learning from Une herself that she wanted to use him for deep undercover work, he had passed.  
He had already saved humanity twice as a teenager. He didn’t need to spend his adulthood doing it again.  
Trowa had crossed paths with Duo after that, at one of Quatre’s twice annual get-togethers that they all reluctantly attended, and Duo had invited him to salvage with the Sweepers until he figured out what he wanted to do after that.  
After six months, Duo had headed off for parts unknown, and Trowa had stayed on with the Sweepers for a few more months before finally giving in to Cathy’s twice-monthly invitation to rejoin the circus.  
It had been good, the work, the travel, the company of the mostly Roma performers and carnies who either remembered him from before or had joined since the war - all of them accepted him, appreciated his skill as an acrobat, and didn’t pry into his past or question his lack of vision for the future.  
Except for Cathy, of course. Despite the fact that Trowa was now twenty five and fully capable of taking care of himself, she still insisted on hovering, still stopped by his trailer whenever they first set up at a new spot to make sure he hadn’t died or something, and she still tried her damnedest to make sure he was happy.  
Trowa supposed he was. Or at least as happy as he had any right to be. He didn’t really think that people like him were ever really happy. Maybe Quatre was, with his pacifism and trillion dollar corporation spreading welfare to the colonies and his marriage to Relena producing perfect blonde babies. But Wufei wasn’t, nor was Heero. Nor was Duo, the last Trowa had heard from him.  
“Good show tonight.”  
Trowa barely checked himself from going for the gun he had stashed in the closest cabinet to the door.  
He flicked on the light in the trailer and spotted Duo Maxwell sitting at the kitchenette table.  
Think of the devil, see the devil.  
“You watched?”  
Duo nodded.  
“Yep. Saw Cathy give you a new haircut.”  
Trowa glared at him and reached up to run his fingers over the hair just above his left ear. It had been a close throw.  
Duo had changed, since the war. Then again, they all had. Eight years had passed since last time they had piloted Gundams, and the life of a quasi-civilian had put weight and muscle on Duo. He’d grown taller, too, but was still under six feet, still the average height for a colonist, and Trowa’s six-foot two frame easily towered over him. Duo still had his long braid of hell, his cocksure attitude, his avoidance of serious conversations and his disdain for order and law.  
It had been four months since Trowa had last seen Duo, and he hadn’t changed much since then except for what looked like a fresh scar on his neck, just below his jaw.  
The former Deathscythe pilot had more or less vanished for two years, after ditching Trowa with the Sweepers, but then resurfaced out of the blue at one of Quatre’s parties. He showed up like this, unannounced in Trowa’s locked and very secure trailer, a few times a year.  
“Did you say hello to August?” Trowa asked. He figured that if Duo could tease him, he would tease him back.  
Duo gave him a sour look and Trowa laughed.  
“I just - that guy is incredibly determined to get in my pants.”  
“Is there any reason you haven’t just said yes to him already? He’s decent in bed. Very vocal.”  
Duo frowned.  
“Yeah, well, if he’s so vocal I think I’ll pass. I don’t want everyone to know about my first time.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“Your first time?”  
Duo’s eyes narrowed.  
“No need to make a big deal out of it,” he muttered. “I’m just saying, I’d rather not have August the Very Vocal tell everyone how bad I am.”  
“How are you twenty five and still a virgin?” Trowa had to ask. “You and Heero never?”  
“No. Of course not. Heero’s like my brother. That - that would be weird.”  
Trowa was fairly confident Heero didn’t see it that way, and maybe that explained a lot about why he wasn’t really happy. Trowa kept in touch with him, through data messages mostly, and one or two visits each year if they were near enough, and he knew that Duo had the same routine with Heero that he had with Trowa. Including his tendency to break and enter.  
Still, even if Duo wasn’t interested in Heero - it wasn’t like he didn’t have options. August made a play for him literally every time Duo visited the circus. Shandor, the magician, had also made a few attempts over the years. But even outside the circus, surely Duo had had offers.  
“Why?” He had to ask.  
“Huh?” Duo clearly wasn’t going down the same mental rabbit hole investigation of his lack of sexual conquests that Trowa was.  
“Why are you still a virgin?”  
“I thought I said let’s not make a big deal about it,” Duo muttered and his cheeks pinked.  
Duo blushing. That wasn’t something that happened often.  
Trowa leaned against the wall near the kitchenette table and crossed his arms. This was simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.  
“Is it because you’re waiting for Quatre to leave Relena and confess his undying love?”  
Duo glared at him.  
“I have no idea why I ever thought it was a good idea to tell you I had a crush on him. I was fifteen - I was young and stupid and he was cute and nice. I am not waiting for him to confess his undying love.”  
Trowa smirked. He hadn’t thought so, which is why he had teased Duo about it.  
“Ah. Wufei,” he guessed. “Saving yourself for the mighty dragon?”  
Duo’s glare did not diminish.  
“Can you even… picture Wufei and I naked together?” Duo asked. “I mean - assuming we managed to make it that far without fighting and breaking bones.”  
Trowa smirked.  
“I can picture it just fine,” Trowa assured him. “Would your hair be loose to in the braid, though? And what about his - he hasn’t cut it in a few years. It’s not as long as yours but still… that’s a lot of hair.”  
“You are not right in the head,” Duo muttered.  
“If it’s not you waiting for Quatre or Wufei, then why are you still a virgin?” Trowa repeated his earlier question. And then a thought occurred to him that took away most of his amusement. “Did something happen to you? During the war? Or before?”  
Nadya, Besnik’s twin sister, had been raped a few years ago and ever since then had steadfastly avoided all sexual advances. Trowa didn’t blame her, and she actually seemed content to lead a sex-free life.  
“No,” Duo shook his head. “Not really. Those Alliance guys might have wanted to try something but they never got very far. No. It’s nothing like that.”  
So maybe Duo was simply asexual as a choice? But if he was, he would have just said so. However much Trowa and Duo teased each other, Duo had always known he could be blunt with Trowa.  
“Then -?”  
“It’s you, okay?” Duo admitted and his face turned completely red. “It’s you. You’re the one I’ve been - I don’t know - waiting for or whatever.”  
Trowa had to stare.  
In all the years they had known each other - in all of the years Trowa had idly wondered what it would be like to fuck Duo - in all the years they had shared a bunk or the trailer and Duo had never made any kind of move - in all the years Trowa had seen Duo walk around half-naked and Duo had seen him walk around completely naked - Trowa had never suspected Duo had more than a mild, passing interest in him. Certainly not enough to wait for him. To still be a virgin.  
“You don’t want me,” Trowa told him. “Not - you don’t want sex with me.”  
Duo frowned at him.  
“I kind of do. I mean - I’m not going to jump you, Trowa. I get that I’m probably not your type or whatever - you would have made a move or something by now if you were interested. I’m only saying something now so you’ll drop it. It’s not - that’s not why I’m here. That’s not why I keep coming back to you. Well, it’s not the only reason,” Duo amended, with a sloppy tilt of his lips that was so classically Duo, that mix of cynicism, self-doubt and fuck it that only he could convey.  
“I’m interested,” Trowa assured him. “But I do have a type Duo, and I don’t think you want to be that type.”  
Duo frowned, clearly not following Trowa’s very vague reference.  
“I’m a dominant, Duo. Not that I only top during sex,” he added when he saw Duo open his mouth, “I prefer BDSM to vanilla sex, and I prefer my partners to be submissive. Very submissive.”  
Duo’s mouth formed into an o shape.  
“I… did not know that about you,” Duo said after a moment and Trowa had to chuckle. Duo offered him a slight smile in return.  
“It’s not something I advertise, unless I’m looking for a partner,” Trowa said with a shrug.  
“But you are interested in me?” Duo asked, his cheeks once again pink and Trowa figured this was some kind of record. Three blushes from Duo in one night. Duo hadn’t even blushed when Relena asked him for sex tips at her wedding, when she had drunkenly stumbled into the coat closet where he, Heero and Trowa were hiding from the party and playing cards. Looking back, now knowing that Duo was a virgin, Trowa was amazed at the fact that he hadn’t blushed.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow. Did Duo really want to persist in this?  
“I’m interested in tying you up, in gagging you, in blindfolding you, in whipping you and seeing you cry because you can’t decide if you’re feeling pain or pleasure. I’m interested in seeing you on your knees, in hearing you beg for my permission to get off. I’m interested in completely dominating you. In taming you, the God of Death. I’m interested in you trusting me so completely that you would let me do whatever I wanted to you without questioning me.”  
Duo stared at him, and Trowa figured he had sufficiently made his point.  
Duo wet his lips, his tongue darting out quickly and maybe it was the turn this conversation had taken, but Trowa found it more arousing than it really should have been.  
“I… I trust you,” Duo said after a moment.  
Perhaps Trowa hadn’t, actually, been clear enough.  
“I mean it, Duo. I’ve always wanted to see what you look like when you cry. I’ve always wanted to hear you beg.”  
Always, because even though Duo might still be a virgin at twenty-five, Trowa was not. He hadn’t really grown into his Terran genes until just after the war, and before that he had been a teenager trying to survive in the company of mercenaries, soldiers and terrorists who had a long list of uses for him, only few of which involved being a mercenary, soldier or terrorist. He had started off as a submissive, without really knowing what that meant until Trowa had joined the circus during the war and Shandor, the Magician, had taught him that being a submissive meant a lot more than allowing others to make use of his body. When Trowa had come back, after the war, Shandor had turned Trowa away from his bed with a gentle admonition, telling him that he wasn’t really suited to be a submissive and encouraged him to try his hand at being a dominant. Shandor had been right. He may have taught Trowa to enjoy being a submissive, may have shown him just how complicated and caring that kind of relationship could be, but Trowa sank into the role of a dominant with ease and with passion.  
“Are we talking knives and burns here or just… whips and stuff?” Duo asked.  
Trowa frowned and his eyes were drawn to that scar on Duo’s jaw again.  
“No knives,” he assured him, because as much as he wanted to raise welts on Duo’s skin, he had never been drawn to blood play. It reminded him too much of the war.  
“Fire?” Duo prompted.  
Trowa remembered another of Duo’s confessions, his memories of the fire that had destroyed the Maxwell Church.  
“No fire,” Trowa agreed. “Candle wax, maybe.”  
“I could do that - a candle isn’t that big of a fire,” Duo decided.  
Trowa abruptly realized what they were doing. Negotiating.  
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.  
“I want to,” Duo said. “I trust you. And if you… if you want to do those things to me, I want you to do them.”  
Trowa sincerely doubted Duo understood just how much of an invitation Duo had just given him.  
“Some of it will hurt. Pain and pleasure aren’t separated.”  
“I already said that I trust you,” Duo stood up. He was shorter than Trowa, but he wasn’t small, and his frame, dressed in unrelieved back from neck to boots, was powerful.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“You have a problem following rules, Duo,” he said, thinking it was the mildest way to reference Duo’s lack of appreciation for authority of any kind.  
Duo looked a little sheepish.  
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I am a quick learner.”  
Trowa had to agree with that. But this wasn’t Duo learning how to pilot a new mobile suit after glancing over the tech manual. This was a partnership that could hurt him, emotionally and physically.  
“Look, if you don’t want me - if you think this is too weird for us to do because of our friendship, just say so,” Duo said. “Or if you really don’t think I can do this, that’s fine too. But I want you. I want this.”  
Trowa wondered about that, wondered if Duo really could learn to be a submissive.  
He kept his arms crossed but straightened up so that he was no longer leaning against the wall.  
“Undress.”  
Duo stared at him and Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
After another moment of hesitation, and yet another blush, Duo shrugged out of his jacket.  
He laid it over the back of his abandoned chair, folding it with a care Trowa had not seen him exhibit with clothing before.  
Duo’s fingers were agile and sure, however, as he undid the buttons of his black work shirt. Trowa supposed that, however nervous Duo might be, he was still Duo Maxwell. If he could infiltrate a heavily armed OZ base with nothing but a screwdriver and a backpack of C4, he could undress in front of Trowa.  
The work shirt was folded onto the jacket, and then Duo untucked his white undershirt and pulled it over his head.  
Trowa had seen a fair amount of Duo’s body before. Duo usually stayed for a few days when he visited, and the trailer shower was small enough that dressing in the unit was a hassle. Duo usually came out in only underwear and a towel and then quickly dressed.  
But while Trowa had seen Duo’s body before, he hadn’t really had the time to admire it.  
The new scar on his jaw was far from the only one on his body. He had the same assortment of war-time wounds that the others did as well as a handful that Trowa had seen him accumulate over the years. The thick scar just to the right of his heart drew Trowa’s attention, as it always did. That wasn’t from the war, or from immediately after, when he and Trowa had worked with the Sweepers. It was a scar Trowa had first seen when Duo came back to them after his two year absence, and it was a scar that Duo had never explained to him.  
He knew the stories behind a fair number of the other scars. He and Duo had a habit of buying a decent bottle of whiskey and emptying it together whenever he visited, and the alcohol always made both of them talk about themselves more than they otherwise would. It was the only time Trowa allowed himself to actually get drunk instead of just buzzed, and he suspected it was the case for Duo as well.  
The scar over his heart wasn’t the only mystery, however. Duo had a dozen or so tattoos that decorated his torso and arms. It seemed that almost every time Trowa saw Duo he had a new tattoo.  
“Turn around,” Trowa spoke up, stopping Duo from undoing his trousers as he caught sight of a new line of ink on Duo’s back.  
Duo complied without hesitation.  
The grim reaper had been the first tattoo Duo came back with and it spanned most of his back. But above that, running from the nape of his neck across his right shoulder, was a line of text.  
Only the dead have seen the end of war.  
It was new, and Trowa wondered what had inspired it, aside from the truth of the statement.  
“Face me again,” he instructed and Duo turned back, a questioning tilt to his eyebrows.  
“Another new tattoo,” Trowa explained, since there was no reason not to.  
Duo nodded, but he didn’t offer any information about it. Trowa hadn’t really expected him to.  
“Keep going,” Trowa said when Duo rested his hands on the waistband of his pants, waiting.  
Duo unfastened them and let the heavy black cargo pants fall down to the floor before bending to pick them up and lay them over the rest of his clothes.  
He toed off his boots and set them on the floor, side by side, under the chair.  
As Duo stood before Trowa in only his socks and underwear, Trowa realized that he hadn’t removed any weapons.  
He knew Duo didn’t walk around unarmed - none of them did if they could help it. Maybe he had a knife or a gun in the pockets of his pants?  
Duo had to balance on first one foot and then the other to pull off his socks, and Trowa smirked at that, because it wasn’t necessarily the most elegant move, but it was a very Duo way to do things - direct and efficient and a little goofy.  
Duo hooked his fingers around the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down slowly, and Trowa wondered if he was trying to make a show of this or simply hesitating before having to stand in front of Trowa completely exposed.  
He watched Duo place the boxers on top of the rest of the clothes, watched the way Duo’s hands drifted back to his sides, the way he made no move to cover himself despite the fact that his face betrayed a fair amount of tension.  
Duo wasn’t hard, and that didn’t really surprise Trowa given the fact that he was probably extremely nervous. If Duo had already been hard, just from Trowa ordering him to undress for the first time, then this would have ventured into the realm of unbelievable fantasy instead of a somewhat tricky first time.  
Duo had little body hair, just a sparse patch around his groin, light enough in color that it, like the hair on his legs, didn’t stand out that much.  
“Kneel,” Trowa said.  
Duo frowned a little, but complied, sinking down to his knees.  
“Spread your legs,” Trowa instructed. “Your knees should be parallel to your shoulders.”  
Duo shifted his legs apart.  
“Put your hands on the back of your head.”  
Duo looked like he wanted to make a joke, but he remained silent and followed the command.  
Trowa reached out and took hold of Duo’s braid. He pulled it forward so that it draped over Duo’s right shoulder to hang over his chest, the end of it only a few inches short of his navel.  
“Tomorrow, when I’m done with the show, I want to come back here and find you just like this.”  
Duo nodded.  
“Okay. Um - I can speak, right?”  
Trowa smirked.  
“Unless I tell you not to, yes. You can speak.”  
He reached down and ran his fingers through Duo’s bangs. His hair was soft and very fine. Not quite how Trowa had imagined it. But better.  
Duo leaned into his touch, just a little, and Trowa smirked at that.  
“I want you to speak,” Trowa continued. “Remember, I want to hear you beg.”  
Duo swallowed hard and nodded.  
“Right.”  
“But I always want to hear you tell me if you like something.”  
“Okay.”  
“Is there something I’m going right now that you like?” Trowa prompted.  
“Oh. Yeah. I - I like you touching me. I like your fingers in my hair.”  
“You enjoy me petting you?”  
Duo blushed again.  
“Yeah,” he laughed softly. “I guess I enjoy you petting me.”  
“I also want you to tell me if you don’t like something. If it’s too much. If you want me to stop, or slow down. If you need me to be more gentle.”  
Duo frowned.  
“That’s… allowed?”  
Trowa nodded.  
“I told you this was about trust.” He ran his fingers down the left side of Duo’s face, tracing the corner of his eye and down his cheek. “I want to make you cry Duo, I want to taste your tears and I want to hear you gasping and moaning and I want you completely incoherent. But I don’t want to do anything to you that you don’t want me to do to you.”  
“How - do I just say stop?”  
“No. In the middle of sex, stop isn’t always the best word to use.”  
Duo drew in a deep breath when Trowa ran his fingers over his lips.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow at him.  
“I like that too,” Duo said.  
“You need two words - one to let me know I need to stop. One to let me know I need to scale back, to go slower or softer.”  
Duo nodded.  
Trowa ran his fingers down to the scar on Duo’s neck.  
“What happened here?”  
Duo hesitated.  
“I - I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”  
Duo’s refusal made Trowa incredibly curious, but he wasn’t about to force Duo into anything - especially not sharing parts of himself that he didn’t want to.  
“No,” Trowa said and he let his fingers drift back to Duo’s hair, pulling slightly at the roots as he ran his fingers through his bangs.  
“I like that too,” Duo said, and his breath was a little harsher. “The pulling.”  
Trowa did it again and Duo rocked forward a bit.  
“Yes,” Duo said.  
Trowa looked away from his face, down his body, and he could see that Duo was now fully erect, his cock jutting out, red and demanding attention.  
“You should pick words that you wouldn’t say - words that are completely out of context from what we will be doing.”  
“Like Quatre?” Duo suggested, his curved lips letting Trowa know it was a joke.  
“If you say Quatre while I’ve got my dick buried inside of you I might never forgive you,” Trowa told him in all seriousness.  
“Fair enough,” Duo said.  
“What about red for stop and yellow for slow down?” Duo offered.  
“Those are good. Neither of us will forget what those mean.”  
Not after years spent around machines, not after piloting Gundams and hacking into computers and military compounds.  
Trowa stepped away from Duo and sat down on the couch against the wall opposite from the kitchen.  
Duo had helped him move this couch in a few years ago, bitching because he had shown up the night before with an open cut on the palm of his hand and he hadn’t been able to grip the couch as well as either of them wanted him to when they negotiated up the stairs and into the trailer.  
Duo remained kneeling on the floor, an uncertain expression on his face.  
“Come here,” Trowa said and indicated his lap.  
The uncertain expression grew more uncertain.  
“Yellow or red?” Trowa asked.  
“Um, neither,” Duo said. He stood up and walked over. “I just… you want me to just sit on your lap.”  
“Yes. Put your knees here and here,” Trowa indicated the couch on either side of his legs.  
“Right. Never done this before,” Duo muttered. He positioned himself as Trowa had instructed, balancing his weight until Trowa reach out and gently pushed him down, so that his ass was resting on Trowa’s knees.  
“I imagine we’re going to do a lot that you haven’t done before,” Trowa said.  
Duo smirked.  
“Yeah. I imagine so.”  
“Where do you want to put your hands?” Trowa asked Duo.  
“Oh. I… I have no idea. I feel kind of stupid just sitting here like this, though.”  
Trowa nodded.  
“You can put them behind your head, like I had you do before,” Trowa suggested, moving Duo’s hands into the position himself.  
Duo shivered at the touch of Trowa’s fingers against his skin, and he shifted in Trowa’s lap a little, his cock nudging Trowa’s chest.  
“Or, if I give you permission, you can touch me,” Trowa said.  
“Do I… have your permission?”  
“Yes. I would like it if you touched me. You can put your hands on my shoulders,” he added when Duo’s hands started to lower. “This time. Another time, I might give you permission to touch me where you want to.” he continued when Duo frowned.  
Duo nodded.  
His touch was tentative, his strong fingers barely gripping Trowa’s shoulders.  
“What have you done before?” Trowa asked Duo.  
“Huh?”  
“You’re a virgin,” Trowa reminded him. “But what have you experienced?”  
Trowa took advantage of Duo’s proximity to run his hands over his chest, tracing over the scars and tattoos, feeling the muscles jump under his touch and Duo’s strong heartbeat.  
“Not much,” Duo admitted. “I’ve kissed a few guys - and Hilde, once. I almost - almost gave someone a blow job.”  
“Almost?”  
Duo nodded and he looked a little miserable, until Trowa distracted him by pinching his right nipple.  
Duo gasped and rocked forward.  
“I like that,” he said, and he sounded a little surprised by the knowledge.  
Trowa smirked.  
“Good. Now answer my question.”  
“Almost, because he freaked out after his pants were down and decided he didn’t really want to try anything with a guy.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“Yeah,” Duo confirmed with a sigh. “It was Quatre.”  
Trowa had had a rather similar experience with the blond Gundam pilot himself. He hadn’t gotten that far - Quatre had stopped him as soon as Trowa’s hands reached for his pants - and he wondered which attempt, his or Duo’s, had happened first.  
Trowa shifted his attention to Duo’s left nipple, pinching it harder than he had the right and Duo moaned.  
“Sorry,” Duo apologized. “I didn’t -”  
“Don’t,” Trowa interrupted him and he made his tone firm. “Do not ever apologize for letting me know you enjoy something.”  
He leaned forward and took the hard nub in his mouth, sucking on it and then biting down gently.  
Duo moaned again and his grip on Trowa’s shoulders tightened.  
“This is mine,” Trowa said when he pulled away. “Your pleasure is mine - and if you want this, you won’t apologize for what I make you feel. And you won’t try to hide it from me.”  
Duo nodded.  
Trowa ran his hands through Duo’s bangs again, using the gesture to pull Duo’s face close.  
“You have nothing to be ashamed of with me. What you feel - what you need - what you want - what you don’t want. I want to know all of it.”  
Duo nodded again and Trowa kissed him.  
He brushed his lips against Duo’s soft at first, gentle, but when Duo leaned into the touch Trowa pressed back, allowing the kiss to hint at just how much he would dominate Duo’s body in the future.  
He pressed his tongue against Duo’s lips and Duo opened his mouth and he made a sound in the back of his throat that was primal and erotic and Trowa felt his own blood pounding in his ears.  
Duo’s tongue tangled with his and Trowa had to smile against his lips.  
It was clear that Duo could be submissive, at least in what they had tried so far, but he was far from passive.  
Duo’s lips curved upwards as well as he felt Trowa’s smile.  
Trowa eased back from the kiss.  
“I want you to show me how you like to be touched,” Trowa said to him.  
It took Duo a moment to focus on his words.  
Duo drew in a deep breath and removed his hands from Trowa’s shoulders.  
Trowa felt him settle back on Trowa’s knees, shifting so that he had more room to touch himself.  
“I normally use lotion or something,” Duo said.  
“I’ve got lubricant in my bedroom, in the nightstand drawer. Get it.”  
Duo eased off of Trowa’s lap and went to fetch it.  
He came back a moment later and settled on Trowa’s lap again before spreading some of the lube on his right palm.  
“Do you use both hands?” Trowa asked.  
“No.”  
“Then put your left hand back on my shoulder.”  
Duo complied and then reached down to touch himself with his right hand, making a loose fist around his cock and tugging slowly and firmly.  
“What do you think about when you touch your cock?”  
Duo made an inarticulate sound.  
“You,” he said. “I think about you.”  
“What about me?”  
“You touching me. You kissing me. You - you fucking me.”  
Trowa ran his left hand down Duo’s right arm, feeling his muscles flexed as he worked over his own flesh.  
“I think about you sometimes,” Trowa told him.  
“You do?”  
Duo’s breathing was uneasy, and his face and chest were flushed.  
“Mm.” Trowa tugged on his braid a little sharply, making Duo rock forward against him. “I think about spreading your arms and legs and tying you to my bed and keeping you there while I make you come, over and over again, until you’re begging me to stop, until you can’t handle any more pleasure.”  
Duo was getting close, if his erratic pace was anything to judge by.  
“And each time I make you come, you’re going to ask my permission, Duo. You’re going to ask me, very nicely, if you are allowed to come for me.”  
“Uh huh,” Duo’s eyes were closed and he was biting down on his lower lip.  
“Look at me Duo, and ask for my permission.”  
Duo’s eyes snapped open and he looked at Trowa, wide eyed and desperate.  
“Please - please, Trowa. Can I - can I come?”  
“Yes. Come for me, Duo.”  
And he did, thick, white spurts that landed on his hand and belly and thighs.  
“Stand up so I can clean you off,” Trowa instructed.  
Duo got to his feet, a little unsteady, and stepped away from the couch.  
Trowa sat forward and pulled Duo back, gripping his hips to pull his groin close.  
He took his time licking away the evidence of Duo’s orgasm, and Duo shuddered under him.  
“I like that. Fuck, I like that a lot,” Duo said.  
Trowa smirked when he finished and then stood up.  
“Good.”  
Duo looked down, at the outline of Trowa’s erection, trapped in his pants.  
“Did you -”  
“Not tonight,” Trowa told him. “Tomorrow.”  
Duo nodded.  
“I - thank you.”  
“Of course.” Trowa reached out and ran his thumb over Duo’s mouth. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”  
Duo’s eyes were very intense as they met Trowa’s gaze.  
“You can sleep out here,” Trowa offered, glancing at the couch, “like you always do. Or you can sleep with me.”  
“Which… do you want?” Duo asked.  
“If you sleep with me then you’ll sleep naked and I’m going to hold you. You might not want that, and I don’t mind if you’re more comfortable out here tonight.”  
“I’d be more comfortable out here,” Duo confirmed.  
Trowa nodded and leaned forward to kiss him one more time, a quick, fierce kiss that had Duo pressing against him.  
“Good night,” Trowa said.  
“Night.”  
Duo watched him go into the bedroom, and as Trowa closed the door to give Duo privacy, he couldn’t help but lean back against it and curse.  
He was so fucked.  
It was clear, just from this, the most innocent and tame of dominance play, that Trowa was quickly going to get obsessed with Duo. And that was not going to be a good thing.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I am NOT an expert on BDSM.   
A/N #2: I don’t speak Polish. I’m sorry if I butchered it.   
A/N #3: Um… fair warning, this is not just porn without plot. So just… keep a weathered eye to the horizon, I guess?

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter Two

When Trowa woke up in the morning the trailer was empty.  
He had a brief moment of panic and regret as he glanced at the folded up blanket and the pillow on the foot of the couch, but then he caught sight of Duo’s heavy black jacket still folded over the kitchenette chair.  
Duo would not abandon that jacket. Trowa had seen him wear it for the last three years, had watched him painstakingly mend holes and rips with a needle and thread, and he knew there was some significance for Duo.  
So Duo was still here, still somewhere nearby.   
Trowa showered and dressed for the day and tried very hard not to wonder how Duo felt about last night now that he had had the chance to sleep, to wake up and reflect about it and start to doubt whether or not it was such a good idea.  
Once dressed, Trowa made the trek over to Shandor’s trailer.   
The front door was open, and he looked in to see Cathy and Shandor deep in a conversation that involved broad hand gestures.  
He made sure to stand out of their line of sight - he had made the mistake, last year, of walking in on a conversation that involved broad hand gestures and as a result had found himself dressed up like a mermaid, swimming in pool that Shandor made vanish. The trick had played well, and Duo, who had seen it at least three times, still liked to tease him about it.  
After a few minutes, Cathy and Shandor seemed to come to some kind of decision about whatever new act they were discussing, and Trowa prayed he wasn’t going to be involved yet again.  
As Cathy left the trailer, however, she spotted him lurking and smirked.  
Fuck.  
“Trowa! Shandor and I were just talking about you!”  
He glared at her.  
“I’m not dressing up like a mermaid again.”  
“You were a merman, Trowa,” Cathy corrected him. “Not a mermaid.”  
He kept his glare stony.  
She rolled her eyes.  
“Honestly, you looked sexy. But no, we don’t want to put you in a merman costume again. We’ve got a new idea.”  
Trowa was afraid to ask, so he just gave her a disdainful sniff and walked into the trailer, her laughter following him.  
“Ah, I wondered if you would make it over this morning,” Shandor greeted him.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
He always came over to Shandor’s trailer in the mornings.  
Trowa had never been much of a coffee drinker. Growing up with mercs, mechanics and terrorists, the only coffee available had been sludge strong enough to strip paint. Cathy, on the other hand, made coffee so weak it was simply colored water. It wasn’t until Trowa had started waking up in Shandor’s bed that he had had real coffee - smooth and rich and smelling like heaven.  
Shandor poured him a cup and Trowa accepted it gratefully and sat down at the small table in the front portion of the trailer. Shandor joined him.  
“Usually you sleep in when your Duo visits,” Shandor said.  
Your Duo.  
Shandor had always called him that, and a fair number of the circus folk did as well. It was almost as if they needed to constantly remind Trowa that Duo was his responsibility - that if he did something wrong while on the circus grounds, it would be Trowa’s fault.  
“We didn’t drink last night,” Trowa told him.   
They normally would have, but Trowa was certainly willing to forgo a chance to get drunk for a chance to be intimate with Duo.   
Shandor looked amused.  
“He was fixing the refrigeration unit on beverage cart earlier.”  
Trowa nodded. That sounded like Duo.  
It was another habit of his, tinkering with anything mechanical, and every time he visited he left the circus machinery in much better shape than Trowa was able to maintain. Duo was simply a better mechanic, more intuitive than Trowa, and Trowa never had the time to devote to any lengthy repairs.  
“I’m glad. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it.”  
“August spent half an hour ogling him while he worked.”  
Trowa rolled his eyes. That didn’t surprise him. August had never made any secret of his attraction to Duo.  
“I’m sure Duo loved that.”  
Shandor smirked.  
“It was very amusing for me to watch them,” he confessed. “I particularly enjoyed the look on August’s face when Duo finally threw down his wrench and said that he was already in a relationship.”  
Trowa barely managed to keep his face neutral.  
“Really?”  
Shandor nodded, and there was a calculating look in his dark eyes.  
“And of course August tripped all over himself to apologize and run away. Which begs the question, why didn’t Duo think of that excuse sooner? August has been after him for years.”  
Trowa shrugged.  
“No idea.”  
Shandor’s eyes narrowed.  
“Be careful with that one, moj cenny jeden. He will not be as easy to train as you were.”  
Trowa sighed. He was usually so damn good at hiding his emotions, at keeping his face neutral. Shandor, however, had always been able to see right through him.  
“I know,” he said.   
“He will fight you,” Shandor predicted.  
And even though Duo hadn’t last night, not really, Trowa knew Shandor was right about that too. Last night had been a very tame experiment compared to what Trowa really wanted from Duo.   
“You will have to keep him disciplined,” Shandor continued.  
Yes, Trowa knew that much as well, and he had already started to think of how he wanted to introduce Duo to that aspect of their relationship.  
Shandor made a tsking sound and Trowa turned his thoughts back to their conversation.  
“You have wanted him for a long time, haven’t you?”  
“Yes,” Trowa admitted.  
“Be careful,” Shandor repeated.  
“I will be careful with him. You taught me well.”  
“I meant, be careful for yourself, moj cenny jeden.”  
-o-  
Trowa didn’t see Duo until lunch, when most of the circus folk gathered together to share food and conversation.  
Duo sat down with with Trowa, Cathy and Besnik and gave them a tired smile.  
Trowa had to arch an eyebrow at his appearance.  
Duo was filthy, his face smeared with dirt and grease and his arms and clothes in similar condition. He had a black bandana wrapped around his hair, keeping it out of his face, and it made him look even more like a space rat than he normally did.  
“Are those my clothes?” Trowa realized, looking at the now dirty gray shirt and green drawstring pants. Trowa’s toolbelt completed the look, but Trowa was used to Duo borrowing that.  
Duo looked sheepish.  
“Yeah…” he slanted a look over at Cathy. “She made me change.”  
Trowa looked over at Cathy, who glared at him.  
“Honestly. If Duo is going to take the time out of his vacation to fix things for us, he’s not going to ruin his own clothes doing it.”  
Trowa rolled his eyes.  
“But it’s fine for him to ruin my clothes.”  
“You are perfectly capable of doing laundry,” Cathy informed him tartly.  
Trowa opened his mouth to retort, but Duo’s delighted smirk had him snapping his mouth closed again.  
“I heard you worked a miracle on the beverage cart,” Besnik spoke up, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. He had said on multiple occasions that one of his favorite hobbies was watching Trowa and Cathy bicker.  
Duo shrugged one shoulder and accepted the plate of food Cathy handed him.  
“Yeah, Tro already had it in decent condition. I just tweaked a few things.”  
Trowa appreciated the acknowledgement, but he knew Duo had likely done more than tweak a few things.  
“I took a look at that dry ice machine for you too, Cathy,” Duo said after a few bites of his sandwich. “Should be good to go now.”  
“Thank you,” she smiled at him. “It’s so nice to have someone useful around.”  
Trowa gave her a look and she smiled sweetly at him.  
Duo and Besnik both laughed.  
“Speaking of useful,” Duo said and waggled his eyebrows at Trowa, “I could use a hand this afternoon if you’re free? I told Nicholae I’d fix the heating unit in his trailer but I’m going to need an extra set of hands to do it.”  
Trowa shrugged.  
“I’m free.”  
Duo smiled and Trowa had to assume that he wasn’t secretly in full freak out mode over last night. It was likely Duo could have asked someone else to help him, it didn’t sound like a task that really needed a mechanic of Trowa’s skill as an assistant. Clearly, Duo wanted to be around him.  
After lunch they headed over to Nicholae’s trailer and were greeted by his younger sister, Sylvan.  
“Heya brat,” Duo said to her when she opened the door to let them inside.  
She glared up at him and he ruffled her hair.  
Trowa smirked.  
Sylvan was thirteen, and while she was a loner, she was also a smart mouth. Trowa remembered the first time Sylvan and Duo had spoken to each other, when she was only seven, and she had asked about his braid, claiming that only girls had hair like that and telling Duo that he wasn’t a girl and he wasn’t allowed to. Duo had given her a very serious look and informed her that his braid wasn’t a girly braid. It was a manly braid that he used to tickle brats with and had proceeded to do just that, making Sylvan shriek and run from him.  
She usually followed Duo around like a shadow when he visited, watching him repair things and asking him questions about the Sweepers and the War. Nicholae was an acrobot and a juggler, just like their mother, Simza. But, thus far, Sylvan had shown no aptitude or interest in either.  
“Alright, brat, why don’t you supervise while Tro and I fix this thing?” Duo suggested.  
Sylvan pulled up a chair and watched them disassemble the heater unit.  
“How did you two meet?” Sylvan asked.  
Duo gave Trowa a look, one corner of his mouth curved upwards.  
“During a battle,” Duo said, turning back to his work, but Trowa could see he was amused, no doubt thinking back to that moment ten years ago.  
“Did you guys win it?”  
“Sort of,” Duo said and then grunted as he had to use force to pry off the cover of the unit.  
“What does that mean?”  
“It means we started off trying to kill each other,” Trowa explained.  
“Oh.”  
He looked over to see Sylvan’s eyes were wide.  
“It’s okay,” Duo assured her as he handed parts off to Trowa. “He realized he was wrong and we became the very best of friends.”  
Trowa rolled his eyes. It had certainly not been that quick, or that easy.  
“I thought you were the one who was wrong,” Trowa said.  
“No, no. It was definitely you. Remember, I was on Heero’s side - and Heero is never wrong.”  
Trowa snorted in amusement and Duo grinned at him.  
“You never talk about the war,” Sylvan said to Trowa, and Duo’s grin slipped.  
“No, I don’t,” Trowa agreed.  
“Why not?”  
“Jeez, brat,” Duo muttered. “You trying to run an interrogation?”  
“She reminds me of you,” Trowa had to say.  
Duo glared.  
“Is this going to become some joke about being a brat?”  
“I never make jokes about that.”  
Sylvan made a frustrated noise.  
“But Duo talks about it.”  
“Only to you, and only when you ask,” Duo said and returned to his work. “And I don’t… there’s a lot I’d rather not talk about.”  
“Was it scary?”  
“Every damn day,” Duo said, his voice low.  
“Then why did you do it?”  
Duo arched an eyebrow at Trowa, as if inviting him to answer first.  
Trowa really didn’t feel comfortable answering the question and he shook his head slightly.  
“Somebody had to,” Duo spoke up, answering for both of them. “Somebody had to protect the colonies.”  
Maybe that had been Duo’s motivation, but they both knew it hadn’t been Trowa’s.   
“But you don’t fight anymore,” Sylvan pressed.  
“War’s over,” Duo said. “Pass me that wrench,” he asked Trowa.  
“But people are still fighting. I saw the news scroll - there are riots on some of the colonies.”  
“Yeah, well,” Duo grunted as he put effort into loosening up a bolt. “Riots happen when there’s an economic depression and people can’t get work or food or housing.”  
The conversation was taking a darker turn that Trowa wanted. The circus, partly because they moved around so much and partly because of how insular their community was, had been a relatively sheltered place for Sylvan to grow up in. The circus had performed on colonies that were in distress, and their current spot was far from well-off, but Sylvan hadn’t really been exposed to the worst of it.  
“Damnit,” Duo cursed. He turned around to look at Sylvan. “Can you go grab your brother or your mom? This thing is going to need a bit more love than I can give it.”  
Sylvan sighed, but complied and left the trailer.  
“Sorry,” Duo apologized to Trowa and went back to work on the heater. “That got a little dark, I know.”  
“When we were her age…”  
Duo snorted.  
“When we were her age we’d already lost count of the laws we’d broken,” Duo said.  
Trowa nodded in agreement.  
“And we shed a lot of blood to make sure she didn’t live in that kind of world,” Trowa reminded him.  
“That we did.”  
“What’s wrong with it?” Trowa asked Duo. “Will you need any replacement parts?”  
“Oh - uh, no. I just didn’t know how to change the subject.”  
Trowa chuckled.  
“She’s going to be so pissed at you when she realizes.”  
“Yeah, well. She’s thirteen. She’s already pissed at the world.”  
From Duo’s tone of voice, it was very clear that he was too.  
Trowa refrained from commenting, however.  
“I, uh,” Duo looked over at him and he was blushing again. “I’ll shower before tonight.”  
All thoughts of riots and angry teenagers were erased from Trowa’s mind at those words.  
He nodded.  
“Good.”

-o-

Trowa took his time after the show, finishing up his nightly chores and checking in with the lions and even letting Pesha berate him for a few minutes before he went back to his trailer.  
He used the time to steady himself, because he had been thinking about this moment all night, anticipating the sight of Duo naked and kneeling on the floor of his trailer, waiting for him.  
He wanted to be calm. He needed to be calm. Things were always better that way, when he could take his time and enjoy it.   
And he liked the burn of anticipation and arousal, he liked the hum of his blood and the sensitivity of his skin as he imagined the weight of Duo’s body against him, the press of his firm skin.  
As he approached the trailer he could see the dim glow of the kitchen light, a soft golden glow around the edge of the curtains on the small window on the wall above the couch.  
He’d wondered - wondered if Duo would be waiting for him in the dark or would leave the light on.  
Duo was in the position Trowa had shown him last night. He had even remembered to drape his braid over his right shoulder, and the thick tail drew Trowa’s attention to Duo’s cock. Unlike last night, when Duo had adopted this position, tonight Duo’s cock was already hard.  
“Have you been touching yourself, Duo?” Trowa asked as he closed the door behind him and locked it.  
Duo swallowed, guessing from Trowa’s tone that he had made a mistake.  
“Yes,” he admitted.  
“Why?”  
He hesitated and Trowa crossed his arms, content to wait for a response.  
“Because I’ve been thinking about tonight all day and I was already hard just thinking about it and I wanted to.”  
It was an honest answer, but Trowa didn’t really expect Duo to lie to him, over this or anything else.  
Trowa sat down on the couch, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his right leg over his left. He regarded Duo in silence for several minutes, until Duo started to squirm.  
“As soon as you adopt this position, you are mine, Duo,” Trowa spoke up when he felt Duo was nearly his limit of silence from Trowa.   
“I - okay.”   
“And that means you will not touch yourself until I give you permission to do so. I don’t care how excited you get thinking about what I’m going to do to you, you will behave yourself.”  
Duo sucked in a breath, and it seemed as though he was on the verge of saying something, but instead he just nodded.  
Trowa waited another few minutes before uncrossing his legs and sitting up straighter.  
“Come here.”  
Duo rose and approached him.  
“Like last time?” He asked, pausing before joining Trowa on the couch.  
“No.” Trowa was glad Duo had thought to ask instead of just assuming. “I want you to lay down, on your belly, across my lap.”  
Duo gave him an odd look, but he followed Trowa’s instructions, situating himself on Trowa’s lap. Trowa spread his legs a bit, balancing Duo’s lower torso on his left leg and this thighs on his right.  
Duo’s body was tense, and it was obvious he was anxious and uncertain about what Trowa would do to him.  
Trowa slowly ran his right hand over Duo’s spine, tracing the bones and the tattoos downwards until he reached the curve of Duo’s ass.  
Duo was lean, and while he was muscled, his body showed years of malnourishment and Trowa doubted he had a steady diet when he wasn’t with the circus.   
He spread his hand wide and caressed the globes of Duo’s ass, parting them slightly and running one finger between the crack.  
Duo shuddered and Trowa could feel his hard cock stabbing against his thigh.  
He gently pressed the pad of his index finger against Duo’s anus.  
“I’m - I’m ready for that,” Duo spoke up, his voice thready.  
“Ready for what?” Trowa asked.  
“For you - for sex.”  
“Maybe you are,” Trowa allowed.  
“I want it,” Duo said and turned his head to look at Trowa, his blue eyes serious.  
“I’m sure you do,” Trowa agreed and Duo’s eyes narrowed. “But I’m not going to spoil you by giving you everything you want right away. I don’t spoil my pets, Duo. You might want sex now,” he continued and pressed his finger a little deeper, barely pushing into Duo’s body and Duo gasped, “but what you need right now is discipline. When you need sex, I will give you that,” he assured Duo.  
“Discipline?” Duo echoed.  
Trowa nodded and pulled his hand away and smoothed it over Duo’s ass again.  
“Yes. Discipline.” Trowa raised his palm and brought it back down, hard and fast and Duo yelped in surprise.  
“Did you just - you just spanked me!” Duo looked at him with furious eyes and Trowa had to fight back amusement. He had expected exactly this reaction.  
“Yes,” Trowa said calmly. “I did.”  
He did so again, delivering a blow to Duo’s right cheek and then another to his left.  
Duo struggled in his lap, trying to turn over, but Trowa put his left hand between Duo’s shoulder blades and kept him pinned in place.  
“Damnit, Trowa, I’m not a five year old! I don’t need to be spanked.”  
Trowa didn’t bother to hide his amusement at that.  
He snorted derisively.  
“That’s exactly what you need,” he told Duo and pushed him back down when Duo fought him again after another stinging blow. “You haven’t been disciplined a single day in your life.” He hit Duo again and Duo writhed, hissing angrily. “You do whatever you want.” Another blow. “And you think you know what’s best for you.” Another blow. “What you need.” Another blow and Duo made an angry, frustrated noise in his throat. “What you want.” Trowa hit him again before taking a moment to admire Duo’s ass. His pale skin was red, and Trowa had hit him hard enough once or twice to leave distinct hand prints. He hit him again and Duo actually growled.  
“But the truth is,” Trowa continued, and he lowered his voice and gentled his tone. “The truth is that you don’t really know what you want.” He delivered another blow, but checked himself at the last second, so that it landed with much less force than the others. Duo had clearly been anticipating a harsher blow, though, and he rocked forward, trying to move away from Trowa’s hand, and it brought his still erect cock in contact with Trowa’s thigh again. He gasped and Trowa smiled.  
“You have no idea what you need,” he said and his next blow was even lighter, gentle enough to almost be a caress and Duo moaned. Duo rocked against Trowa’s thigh again and Trowa hit him harder, surprising Duo. “You are not in control of this, Duo,” he reminded him and delivered another blow, just as hard. “If I want you to feel pleasure, you will.” He caressed Duo again and Duo jumped a little in surprise. “And when I want you to feel pain, you will be grateful.” He delivered another light blow. “Because I know what you need Duo. You need discipline.”  
He went back to the harder slaps, counting to five between each one, alternating cheeks, until Duo was drawing in harsh breaths and his ass was a solid reddish-pink.  
“Discipline lets you appreciate the pain, Duo, and it teaches you to wait for the pleasure.”  
He removed his left arm from Duo’s shoulders.  
“Get the aloe from the bathroom,” he instructed Duo.  
Duo got to his feet, a little unsteady, and Trowa could see that his face was red, his eyes bright and his mouth set in a tense line. His erection was almost as red as his face, the head of his cock wet with smeared precum.   
Trowa wondered how much of Duo’s anger was over Trowa’s treatment of him and how much was directed at himself, for clearly appreciated some aspect of the punishment.  
When Duo returned with the small jar, Trowa gestured for him to return to the same position.  
Duo resituated himself.  
“Spread your legs a little,” Trowa instructed him.  
Duo did so, letting Trowa push his thighs several inches apart.  
Trowa opened the jar and spread some of the aloe on his fingers before touching Duo again, rubbing the cool gel into Duo’s abused flesh.  
Duo sucked in a relieved breath and his head fell down onto the couch.  
Trowa took his time soothing Duo, gently but firmly applying the gel on his skin until Duo’s ass gleamed.  
He added a little more gel to his fingers before skimming down the crevice between Duo’s cheeks. He teased the tight ring around Duo’s entrance until he was pushing back against him.  
“Duo.”  
Duo sighed.  
“You’re the one fingering me,” he muttered.  
Trowa smirked, amused at his belligerent tone. In the future, Duo would learn, but for now, at least, he was still very new to all of this.  
“Because this is mine,” Trowa reminded him, pulling his hand away. “Did you enjoy that?”  
“The biting my lip until I thought I was going to bleed so I didn’t tell you to stop hitting me and go fuck yourself? No, not so much.”  
Trowa rolled his eyes. Shandor had been right, as usual. Duo was definitely not going to be easy to train.  
“I meant this part,” Trowa said and pressed his anus again.  
“Oh. Yeah - yes, I enjoyed that.”  
“Hm. Don’t lie to me, Duo.”  
Duo turned to look at him.  
“I’m not - I did enjoy that.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“But you didn’t enjoy your spanking?”  
Duo glared at him.  
“No.”  
“If you didn’t enjoy it then why are you still hard?”  
Duo swallowed and he looked uncomfortable.  
“Go back to your spot.”  
Duo looked a little mutinous at that, at being directed to go sit, as though he was a pet.  
But he was. Whether he understood it yet or not, he was Trowa’s.  
He got up and returned to his spot, kneeling and putting his hands behind his head without being told to do so.  
Trowa replaced the lid on the aloe and stood up.   
He saw Duo’s eyes drift down to his erection, to the less than subtle wet spot on his trousers that revealed Trowa’s own enjoyment.  
Trowa walked past Duo to return the aloe to the bathroom and then went into the bedroom to retrieve the lubricant from his nightstand.   
He sat back down on the couch and regarded Duo. His ass was still red, and Trowa imagined he would be sore tomorrow. He wondered how long Duo would stay, if it would be long enough for Trowa to see if any bruises developed.  
“What would you like?” He asked Duo.  
Duo looked at him suspiciously.  
“I thought I didn’t know what I wanted.”  
Trowa smirked.  
“Not really, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear what you think you want.”  
Duo seemed to consider that.  
“I’d like to kiss you.”  
Trowa nodded.  
“Anything else?”  
“I’d like to see you, to touch you.”  
“Is that all?”  
Duo frowned.  
“Do you want to stay unsatisfied all night?” Trowa gestured to Duo’s still hard cock.  
“Not particularly.”  
Trowa stood up, and the weight of Duo’s gaze on his was heady, almost a caress, and as Trowa undressed he watched Duo’s eyes follow his hands, watched him lick his lips and rock forward, just a bit, when Trowa’s cock was revealed.  
Trowa laid his clothes over the kitchen chair where Duo’s jacket still hung and then sat back down on the couch.  
He put one hand on his right thigh and Duo rose to his feet and came back to him.  
“Just like last night,” Trowa told him and Duo settled onto his lap with a contented sigh, his hands going to Trowa’s shoulders and his thigh muscles jumping as their cocks brushed together.  
Trowa threaded his fingers through Duo’s bangs, petting and tugging until Duo’s eyes closed and his lips parted, until he let go of his anger and resentment and felt only Trowa’s touch.  
He pulled Duo against him and kissed him firmly. Duo kissed him back, his mouth opening to Trowa’s tongue and he sucked on him, on his lips and his tongue until Trowa was on the verge of losing control. But Trowa pressed back, regained control of the kiss, gentled it and explored Duo’s mouth leisurely.  
When he pulled away Duo’s eyes were hooded, his breathing shallow, and his skin flushed. He was beautiful like this, passionate and at Trowa’s mercy.  
“You wanted to touch me?” Trowa asked him.  
Duo nodded.  
“Where?”  
“Everywhere.”  
Trowa smirked.  
“You are so very greedy,” he rebuked him while running his knuckles over Duo’s jaw. Duo leaned into the touch.  
“I’m a street rat and a spacer,” Duo reminded him. “Of course I’m greedy.”  
“Hm. I’m not going to let you become a spoiled brat,” Trowa reminded him. “You can touch me,” he decided, “but only with your mouth.”  
Duo seemed to consider that.  
“Can I move?” He shifted on his haunches.  
“No.”  
Duo looked down, at Trowa’s cock, and then back up at his face.  
“I’m not that flexible,” he complained.  
“If I wanted you to suck my cock right now, you’d be doing it,” Trowa told him bluntly.  
He could see Duo’s pulse jump, could feel Duo’s excitement at his words, but Duo nodded and remained on Trowa’s lap.  
Duo leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to Trowa’s lips before kissing his way across his jaw and down his neck. He bit down on Trowa’s pulsepoint and Trowa hissed in surprise. Duo smiled against his skin.  
“My teeth are in my mouth.”  
God. What the hell had Trowa gotten himself into with this monster?  
Duo licked at his neck, soothing the bite, and then kissed his way down Trowa’s chest before reaching his nipples.   
Trowa waited for another bite, but Duo merely licked and sucked on his nipples, until Trowa was fighting to stay still.  
“Satisfied?” Trowa asked him once Duo had treated both of nipples to the same gentle torture.  
“I guess,” Duo said, and it was clear he wanted license to do more.  
“Put your hands back behind your head,” Trowa instructed.  
Duo did so and Trowa kissed him again.  
Duo let him control the kiss this time, he still pressed back, still sucked on Trowa’s tongue, but he didn’t try to fight him.  
Trowa spread lubricant on his right hand before he reached down and finally touched Duo’s cock.  
Duo moaned into his mouth, a low keen of unexpected pleasure.  
Trowa matched his grip and his pace to what Duo had done last night.   
Duo had been on edge for long enough that he was soon close to orgasm, and he pulled away from the kiss with a gasp.  
“Please,” he panted. “I’m close.”  
“And?”  
“And,” Duo seemed to be struggling. “Please, can I come?”  
“Yes.”  
Duo shuddered against him, his thighs jerking forward as he came, spilling onto Trowa’s hand and body.  
Trowa loosened his grip, but continued to stroke Duo slowly.  
Duo made a strangled noise in his throat.  
“It’s really sensitive,” he said.  
“Yellow or red?” Trowa reminded him.  
“N - neither. I just, uhh, I don’t usually keep going after I come. I - fuck, Trowa, I -”  
“Ask, Duo.”  
“Trowa - I, oh God, Trowa can I come again?” It sounded like Duo was asking for permission just as much as he was asking for an answer to the possibility.  
“Yes.”  
Duo shuddered against him, gasping for breath. He didn’t ejaculate again, but the boneless way he rested against Trowa made it clear he had experienced another orgasm.  
“A first for you?” Trowa guessed.  
Duo nodded.  
“I never knew that was even possible.”  
“If you exercise your pelvic floor muscles you can achieve multiple orgasms more commonly.”  
“But I didn’t actually ejactulate.”  
Trowa shrugged.  
“Did it still feel like an orgasm?”  
Duo nodded.  
“Fuck, yes.”  
“Because it was.”  
Duo leaned back on his heels and then winced slightly as his ass took most of his weight.  
Trowa wondered if Duo would continue to be angry when he thought about the spanking. He wondered how long it would take Duo to link pain and pleasure in his mind.  
Duo’s gaze strayed down to Trowa’s cock again.  
“Yes?”  
Duo smirked, not at all self-conscious for getting caught staring.  
“You’re still hard.”  
“Of course I am. Getting you off is one of the most arousing things I can imagine doing.”  
Duo stared at him, his gaze searching for a moment, and Trowa thought that maybe he was beginning to understand.  
“Are you going to get off?”  
“Would you like me to?”  
“Yes.”  
“Go back to your spot.”  
Duo demonstrated less hesitation when following the order this time, and Trowa couldn’t decide if he was learning or if he was simply that eager to see Trowa stroke himself.  
Either way, Trowa had deprived himself for long enough that he was eager.  
He spread more of the lubricant on his fingers, mixing it with Duo’s semen, and then touched his cock.  
He spread his legs wide, so that Duo could see better, and so that he had greater access to his balls.  
Trowa fondled himself, cupping his balls and stroking his perineum with his left hand while gripping his cock with his right. He set a quick pace and kept his hand firm, pulling at his skin and spreading the lube down the his shaft before running his fist up and down the length, from the head to the base.  
Duo’s eyes were wide, and Trowa could hear his shallow breathing from across the room. He was also hard again, and Trowa debated whether or not he should suck him off. He really didn’t want to spoil Duo, to allow him to get what he wanted all of the time, but fuck. Duo looked desperate.  
Trowa felt himself reach that precipice before orgasm and he left himself fall, his release stealing his breath away.  
He had to lean back against the couch to steady himself.  
“Please,” Duo croaked.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“Please what?”   
“Can I taste you?”  
“You may.” Trowa seriously doubted he had the fortitude to say no to that request, not with Duo looking like that.  
Duo got up and walked over to the couch before kneeling between Trowa’s open legs. He put his hands on Trowa’s shoulders and then leaned forward to lick up the thick white streams and spots from Trowa’s orgasm.  
Trowa shivered at the feel of Duo’s mouth on him, at his tongue licking across his abdomen and his mouth sucking at the head of his cock.  
“That’s enough,” he said and gently pushed Duo’s head away when he tried to suck on more of him.  
Duo stayed between Trowa’s legs, but he put his hands back behind his head and sat back.  
“Would you like to come again?” Trowa asked him.  
“Yeah but I’m kind of… tonight was a lot.”  
Trowa nodded. He was glad that Duo knew his own boundaries.  
“Where do you want to sleep tonight?”  
Duo hesitated.  
“The last time I slept with you I almost killed you,” he reminded Trowa.  
It was true.   
They had been doing a salvage mission with the Sweepers on the moon and, as the lowest ranking members of the crew, Duo and Trowa had been saddled with the shittiest shift and the bunk beside the leaking toilet unit.  
Duo had fixed that after his first salvage shift, but neither of them had had time to rig up a hammock or scrounge for an extra mattress or pillow and so, exhausted, they had shared the single bunk. Until Trowa had woken up a few hours later with Duo’s hands around his throat and it had taken a few minutes of struggling for both of them to wake up enough to realize where they were and who they were. They hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after that, and as soon as their next shift ended, Duo strung up a hammock for himself.  
“I was a lot scrawnier back then,” Trowa said.  
Duo snorted.  
“So was I.”  
“I’m willing to take my chances,” he told Duo.  
Duo continued to hesitate.  
“You don’t have to share my bed, Duo,” Trowa kept his voice neutral. “I’m going to push you and your body, but I’m not going to force you to do anything.”  
Duo nodded.  
“I’ll sleep out here. I’ve got to head out early in the morning anyway.”  
Trowa had wondered how long he would have. He’d hoped for longer. But two nights was more than nothing.   
It was just enough for him to need more.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I am NOT an expert on BDSM.   
A/N #2: Um… fair warning, this is not just porn without plot. So just… keep a weathered eye to the horizon, I guess?

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter Three

X2913 wasn’t the only colony under martial law, but it was certainly one of the ones most in need of it.  
The circus hadn’t been to the colony in two years, not since the troupe had woken up after their first week of shows to find tents vandalized and one of the lions stolen.  
Trowa wasn’t entirely sure why the circus was visiting the colony now. The evening curfew meant early shows - one just after noon and another at five - which, in some ways, was a respite for the troupe. The only had evenings free while traveling, or when on their two month hiatus at the end of the season.  
However, because of the forced curfew, X2913 didn’t have much else by way of entertainment and even with the tickets being sold at reduced prices the circus was making a profit.  
Still, it wasn’t quite a fair trade off.  
It wasn’t just the empty stares of the too thin children in the audience that disturbed Trowa, or the hungry way the men stared at Cathy and some of the other female performers, but more than anything else, it was the expressions of disgust on the ESUN military police who patrolled the grounds.   
The expressions looked exactly like those of the OZ and Alliance guards Trowa remembered from the war.  
He had taken to patrolling the circus grounds each night, hours after the show went down, after the curfew was in effect, just to make sure everyone and everything was secured. He didn’t like having to do that, didn’t like the prickle of anticipation on the back of his neck or the way his body reacted to unexpected noises in the night.   
He hated how normal it felt to reach for his knife or his gun, and he wanted nothing more than to get off this colony and never come back.  
It was hours into the night cycle when he usually returned to his trailer each night, and when he did finally climb into his bed his sleep was restless, plagued with memories and nightmares and he woke up at the sound or feel of any disturbance.  
He found himself almost counting down the hours until their departure when they were down to only four more shows, and he couldn’t help but be frustrated with himself, angry over his fear and unease. So much for the life of a civilian.  
When he came back to his trailer one night, with only three shows left, and found Duo inside, naked and positioned, waiting for him, Trowa honestly felt relief more than anything else.  
It had only been two months since Duo’s last visit, and he didn’t normally appear again so soon, but Trowa certainly wasn’t going to question it. He knew Duo wouldn’t be there for long, maybe only the night, maybe only two or three, but it would mean an extra set of eyes, extra hands and extra experience to help watch over the circus for these remaining days.  
Duo’s eyes met his, and it was very obvious he was excited to see Trowa, obvious to see he had been waiting in anticipation for Trowa’s return.  
So Trowa pushed his concerns away - they would speak about them later. Right now, however, his pet had returned to him, and that was the only thing he wanted to focus on.  
He removed his jacket and the shoulder holster with his illegal gun and stored it in the cabinet, Duo watching him in silence, his blue eyes taking in everything.  
Trowa approached him and allowed himself a small smile.  
Duo smirked in return, and it really did feel as though a weight was lifted from Trowa’s mind. Yes, it was good to have Duo here.  
He reached out and threaded his fingers through Duo’s hair, petting him and tugging on the roots just as Duo liked.  
“Missed me?”   
“Yes,” Duo sighed. His eyes were closed and he leaned into Trowa’s touch, swaying forward slightly.  
Trowa looked over his body, searching for new scars or tattoos. There was a long, jagged line down Duo’s right thigh that looked healed, but only just. Not for the first time, Trowa wondered what the hell Duo did when he wasn’t here. He had asked Duo once, during one of their drunken conversations, and Duo had merely given him that shit eating grin of his and replied, “A little of this, a little of that.”  
Whatever the hell that meant, it seemed as though it came with a lot of risk.  
His search was derailed when he noticed that Duo’s groin was devoid of pubic hair.   
“You shaved.”  
Duo’s eyes opened and he regarded Trowa warily.  
“Yeah, I… noticed that you shaved and thought you might… like that.”  
Trowa leaned down and kissed Duo, a quick, firm press of lips before standing back up.  
“I don’t want you to change your body for me, Duo,” Trowa said. “I appreciate it exactly how it is. But,” Trowa added, “that was thoughtful. It pleases me that you care about what I might like.”  
“Of course I care,” Duo scoffed.  
“Good. As I said, you’ve pleased me. And when you please me, I want to reward you.”  
Duo arched an eyebrow.  
“Does that mean no spanking?”  
“That was an act of discipline, Duo. It wasn’t a punishment. You will always be disciplined when you come to me. I will always give you pain and pleasure because it is what you need. But, when you please me, I will reward you. And when you disappoint me, I will punish you.”  
“But the spanking wasn’t a punishment?”  
“No. Your punishments will be much worse than a spanking, Duo.” Trowa had given a lot of thought to just how he would punish Duo. He had been with a submissive last year who responded very well to corporeal punishment, but Trowa did not think Duo would. Instead, Trowa wanted to keep that kind of physical contact entirely within the realm of discipline - he would beat Duo and he would caress him, but not to punish him. Duo had already had a lifetime of physical punishment, and it clearly hadn’t broken him. If Trowa really wanted to tame Duo, then he was going to have to use something else.  
Duo swallowed hard.  
“Worse how?”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“I’m sure it’s too much to hope that you never find out.”  
Duo’s lips twitched.  
“I suppose that depends on what sorts of things disappoint you,” Duo said.  
Trowa knew Duo was teasing, trying to play a game with him, but it was still a conversation they needed to have, so that Duo would understand.  
He continued to stroke Duo’s hair while he spoke, stepping closer so that Duo could lean his face and shoulder against his thigh.  
“Disobeying me will disappoint me. Questioning me. Whining while you are being disciplined. Forgetting that you are my pet. Not trusting me. Any of those things will disappoint me, and you will be punished.”  
“Last time… I questioned you and I whined,” Duo pointed out.  
“Yes. Several times,” Trowa agreed. He gave a slightly sharper tug on Duo’s hair and Duo drew in a sharp breath and shivered. Interesting. “Do any of those things again, and I will punish you, Duo. As I said before, I won’t have you become a spoiled brat.”  
“I… understand.”  
Trowa stepped back so that he could look at Duo again. He was hard, and without his pubic hair, his cock was even more well defined, standing stiff and proud and it certainly pleased Trowa to know that Duo was so easily aroused by his touch.  
“Would you like your reward or your discipline first?”  
Duo licked his lips as he considered.  
“The reward,” he decided.  
“Why?” Trowa had to ask.  
Duo gave him a look and a dark, lopsided smile.  
“Because whenever you wait for the good stuff it gets fucked up.”  
That was certainly a lesson they had both learned in life, and while Trowa didn’t want that to color their interactions, there was no denying the truth of it.  
“There is a black box under my bed,” he said. “Fetch it.”  
His choice of words was deliberate, and he could see the play of emotions on Duo’s face as he reacted to the command.  
But Duo rose without complaint and went into the bedroom.   
While he was gone, Trowa sat down on the couch, toeing off his boots and setting them aside.  
Duo returned with the box and hesitated, looking between his usual spot on the floor and Trowa’s lap.  
“Come here,” Trowa instructed and he opened his legs so that there was space for Duo between them. “Turn around and kneel down in front of me.”  
Duo did so, presenting his back to Trowa.  
“Open the box.”  
He sat up a little, so that he could see over Duo’s shoulder.  
Duo lifted the lid from the box and set it aside. He stared at the contents of the box for a long, silent moment.  
“It looks just like the one Sister Helen used.” Duo’s voice was quiet, barely loud enough for Trowa to hear.  
“Do you like it?”  
It had been a gamble, but Trowa had seen it and hadn’t really been able to resist the temptation. Duo had told him about Sister Helen, about the way the nun had brushed his hair and taught him how to braid it. It had been one of the few happy memories he had of his childhood, and considering that between the two of them they could think of maybe five happy memories, Trowa knew it was important to Duo.  
“Yes,” Duo said, his voice rough with emotion.  
As much as Trowa wanted to see his face, he knew he had made the right decision in having Duo’s back to him, knew that Duo would appreciate not having Trowa’s eyes on him as he fought back his memories.  
“Would you like me to brush your hair?”  
“That’s my reward?”  
“Yes. If you would like it.”  
Duo nodded and then cleared his throat.  
“Yeah. Yes. I would like that.”  
Trowa held out his hand and Duo placed the brush in it.  
It was a wooden brush, smooth and stained dark, with a oval face and a handle just long enough for Trowa’s fingers to wrap around. The bristles were some kind of special massage bristles, so the salesman had said.  
He set the brush down on the couch beside his thigh and picked up the heavy tail of Duo’s braid.  
Carefully, slowly, he threaded his fingers through it and pulled it loose.  
Duo had a lot of hair. Trowa had already realized that, after touching Duo’s bangs for the first time and feeling how fine his hair was, and now that he saw it loose, spread over Duo’s shoulders and reaching down to the floor, Trowa was left a little breathless.  
He sectioned off Duo’s hair, draping most of it over his right shoulder, and picked up the brush to begin working his way through it.  
He started at the ends and worked his way up towards the roots. Simza had done it that way, with Sylvan, when she had been younger and some children had tangled gun into her hair.  
Duo sighed in pleasure.  
“I like that,” he said. “God, I like that.”  
Trowa had wondered if Duo would even let him do this, or if it would be too personal for the man who was, even more so than Trowa, intensely private. He was glad he had taken the risk.  
It took quite a while to brush out all of Duo’s hair. There was just so much of it and it was so long, but the bristles apparently did massage the scalp, and he had Duo moaning softly and bending his head back for more attention.  
Eventually, however, Duo’s hair was smooth and straight and Trowa set the brush aside again so that he could rebraid it. He based that on Simza too, having seen the woman braid her own hair countless time, though her hair was shorter and not as fine, not as difficult to manage as Duo’s.  
He took his time, though, not wanting to make a mess and not wanting to make a braid that would pull at Duo’s scalp.  
“It feels good,” Duo told him as he neared the end. “Not too tight, not too loose. Have you been practicing?”  
“No,” Trowa answered honestly. “But I’m not going to do something poorly if I care enough.”  
Duo turned a little, looking at Trowa out of the corner of his eye.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“Turn back around, Duo,” he said mildly. “I’m not finished yet. And I did not tell you you could move.”  
“Sorry.” Duo turned back and remained still while Trowa finished his task.  
“Now, you may turn around.”  
Duo did, spinning so that he was still kneeling but now he was looking directly at Trowa.  
“Thank you,” Trowa said.  
“Er - sorry. Thank you, for the reward.”  
Trowa smiled.  
“No, I was thanking you for allowing me to do that.”  
“Oh. Um, you’re welcome?”  
Trowa ran his knuckles over Duo’s jaw.  
“But I do appreciate you thanking me for your reward.”  
Duo smirked.  
“I aim to please.”  
“You aim to please when it pleases you to do so,” Trowa muttered and Duo’s smirk grew.  
Trowa sat back on the couch and patted his leg.  
Duo sucked in a breath.  
“Time for my discipline?”  
“Yes,” Trowa said. “Lay down across my lap again.”  
“More spanking?” Duo asked as he lay down.  
“Was it so very bad last time.”  
“Yes and no,” Duo admitted. He sucked in a breath when Trowa rested his palm on Duo’s ass. “It hurt but… it felt good too.”  
“Mm. Confusing, isn’t it? When you don’t know if you’re feeling pain or pleasure.”  
“Yeah,” Duo agreed with a shaky breath.   
“It will hurt much more this time,” Trowa told him bluntly.  
“Going to hit me harder?”  
“No, but I will be using an implement.”  
“An - what are you going to use?”  
Trowa picked up the hairbrush and rested the flat side against Duo’s ass.  
“My brush?” Duo sounded almost offended.  
“Yes. Your brush. I want you to think of it as your brush, and I want you to remember that whenever I use it on you, it is a gift. Whether that gift is a reward or whether that gift is my attention to your discipline is irrelevant. Just remember that I choose to give you exactly what you need.”  
Duo swallowed and Trowa saw his body tense up as he tried to anticipate the first blow.  
“I won’t always do this,” he told Duo, “but this time I will tell you how many strokes you deserve.”  
“Thank you,” Duo said. “How many?”  
“Fifteen.” It wasn’t a very high number, but it wasn’t particularly low either.  
Duo pressed his forehead into the couch cushions and his hands gripped the fabric tightly. Apparently it was sufficiently intimidating.  
Trowa delivered the first blow and Duo gave a startled cry, only slightly muffled by the couch. Trowa counted to five before delivering the next and Duo rocked with the blow, his hard cock trapped against Trowa’s thighs, but, unlike last time, he made no attempt to move again. Trowa continued to steadily beat Duo, keeping each stroke firm and even, careful not to hit too hard but making sure that none of the blows felt like a reprieve.   
Duo continued to make harsh, strangled noises and his fingers spasmed against the couch as he gripped it tight enough for his knuckles to turn white.  
He made a noise that sounded very nearly like a sob.  
“Turn your face so that I can see you,” Trowa instructed.  
Duo hesitated.  
“Duo. Do not disobey me.”  
Duo drew in a deep, shuddery breath and turned, pressing the right side of his face against the couch and showing Trowa the left side. His eyes were closed and his face was red, his mouth parted as he drew in harsh breaths, and his cheeks were wet.  
“Duo. Look at me.”  
Duo blinked open his eyes and Trowa watched a tear fall from the corner of his thick, wet eyelashes.  
“I told you that I wanted to see you cry. Why would you hide your face from me?”  
Duo swallowed several times.  
“I can’t - I can’t cry.”  
Trowa refrained from pointing out the obvious fact that Duo was crying.  
“Why not?”  
“Boys aren’t supposed to cry.”  
Well fuck.  
Trowa remembered that now, remembered Duo speaking of Solo, his childhood hero and saviour in the kind of reverent voice that Wufei used when speaking about a well-forged sword or his dead teenage bride, or that Quatre used when speaking about Relena or that Relena used when speaking about the future of mankind, or that Heero used when speaking about Duo.  
He tried to think through this complication, and he really should have thought of this sooner, but he honestly hadn’t - he wondered how much of Duo’s tears now were the result of the beating and how much were from his failure to live up to Solo’s expectations.  
“Duo.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over Duo’s cheek, erasing the tears. “I told you before that you have nothing to be ashamed of. Whatever you feel, whatever pain or pleasure or frustration or release, I want you to feel it. To express it. What happens between us exists only for us. As soon as you kneel for me the rest of the Earthsphere ceases to exist. There is no past, there is no future - there is only the time you choose to give to me. These tears are not what Solo told you about. These tears aren’t for him, they are for me.”  
“You want to just break me down?” Duo asked, his voice without malice or bitterness and Trowa almost wondered if it was an invitation.  
“Do you feel broken?” Trowa asked cautiously.  
Duo’s lips twisted into a grim line.  
“You really think spanking me and jerking me off is going to fix me?” He asked by way of an answer.  
Trowa ran his hand through Duo’s hair, buying himself a moment before responding.  
“Those are tools,” Trowa said, choosing his words carefully. “And they aren’t the only tools I will use. But you do need discipline - beyond the excuse it gives me to torture you,” he added when Duo opened his mouth, “you need it. You need someone else to take control of you and you need to belong to someone.”  
“You can’t keep me,” Duo said, his eyes dark and troubled.  
“Oh, but I can certainly try,” Trowa said and he gave Duo a sad smile. “I can try, but I know you aren’t the kind of pet that will follow me around, waiting for me to have a moment to spare. I’m the one that has to wait for you.”  
Duo sighed, and he looked on the verge of apologizing.  
Trowa ran his thumb over Duo’s lips.   
“I have never seen anything more beautiful than you are in those moment, Duo.”  
It was clear Duo wanted to say something witty to deflect Trowa’s words and attention, but his gaze locked with Trowa’s and he seemed to understand the weight of the compliment, the sincerity of it.  
Trowa broke the moment and ran his hand over Duo’s shoulders.  
“You have five more strokes,” Trowa reminded him.  
Duo nodded and started to turn his head but then he remembered and stayed in the same position.  
When Trowa hit him again he was able to see Duo’s reactions, the way his eyes clenched shut and he drew in a wet, harsh breath of air.  
He didn’t cry again, and it was clear that the tension he had felt earlier had already broken, had already left him empty and at rest and Trowa hoped Duo remembered this feeling, remembering the tight sensation of anger and frustration and anxiety the the moment when it all unraveled and he was able to breath again, to feel again.  
“Put away your brush and bring me the aloe,” Trowa instructed once he had finished.  
Duo was no longer erect as he rose and took the brush from Trowa. Trowa was willing to assume his arousal had more or less faded at the thought of Solo and his judgement.  
He took his time rubbing the aloe into Duo’s skin, noticing the welts from the edge of the brush and the rich red of Duo’s abused flesh.   
“Spread your legs,” he said and Duo obeyed without question or hesitation, perhaps remembering last time, when Trowa had applied the aloe to his ass and then teased his anus.  
Trowa spread more aloe on his fingers and ran them between Duo’s ass cheeks, past his anus and down to the sensitive skin just below his balls. Duo shivered and then moaned when Trowa applied pressure, massaging his prostate through the skin.  
“I’ve never done that,” Duo said.  
“You clearly don’t take enough time when you masturbate,” Trowa chided him.  
Duo chuckled and then moaned again when Trowa continued forward and massaged his balls.  
“Clearly not,” he agreed, his voice slightly breathless.  
Trowa made a ring around the base of Duo’s once again erect cock and he teased it up and down the length a few times, intentionally not really applying enough friction or pressure to do anything more than frustrate Duo.  
He returned his fingers to Duo’s anus, tracing around the ring of muscle before pressing his index finger against the opening. Duo tensed and Trowa waited for him to relax before pressing forward, slowing easy the tip of his finger inside.  
“How does it feel?” He asked Duo.  
“Different,” Duo admitted. “Deeper than last time.”  
It was. Trowa had barely penetrated Duo then. Now, he paused once his finger was in to the second knuckle and he waited for Duo to catch his breath. He pulled his finger out and added more aloe before delving back inside, going just a little deeper and holding still while Duo adjusted again.  
He curved his finger and searched for Duo’s prostate, glancing across the knot of flesh.  
“Holy fuck,” Duo cried out.  
“Red or yellow?”  
“Green, fucking green,” Duo panted and Trowa had to laugh.   
“If you’re going to try this on yourself,” he advised Duo, “make sure your nails are very short and very smooth. I do not want you to cut yourself.”  
“Do you do this - to yourself?”  
With some of his other partners, Trowa would have labeled the question as impertinent and punished his submissive for asking. But this was Duo, who was still a virgin, and who did not willingly go into things blind.  
“Sometimes. Would like you me to add a second finger?”  
“I - oh God, Tro,” Duo was distracted from answering when Trowa stroked his prostate again. “Yes? I - yes,” he decided.  
Trowa eased his finger out and added more aloe before nudging at Duo’s entrance again, this time with his middle and index fingers. He took his time stretching Duo, waiting for his body to accommodate the extra digit before he tried to caress him again.  
Duo groaned and his hands gripped the couch just as tightly as during his spanking.  
“Do you like that?”  
“Yes,” Duo panted. “Yes. It feels so intense.”  
Trowa curved his fingers so that he could touch Duo’s prostate inside and so that he could rub his thumb over Duo’s perineum and stimulate it from the outside as well.  
“Oh, Jesus. Fuck. Tro.”  
Trowa had to smirk. He continued to stroke Duo until he was writhing in his lap, his cock thrusting against Trowa’s thighs and his tight ass raising up to meet Trowa’s fingers as he pulled them out and slowly pushed them back in.  
“Trowa - Trowa can I please come?”  
He didn’t think he would ever tire of hearing Duo ask his permission, of hearing his desperate plea for release.  
“Yes.” Someday his response would be no, but he wanted to wait a little longer before exposing Duo to that particular facet of discipline.  
Trowa scissored open his fingers and Duo gave a hoarse shout that he quickly muffled against the couch. Trowa could feel his body spasm, tightening around his fingers, and the shudder of release that signalled Duo’s orgasm.  
Trowa eased his fingers out of Duo’s body.  
“Stand up.”  
Duo climbed off of his lap and stood.  
Most of his semen was on Trowa’s pants, but a few drops still clung to his cock and Trowa licked at those, drawing Duo’s cock into his mouth and feeling him shudder at the sensation.  
Once he had cleaned him off, Trowa pulled Duo down onto his lap, letting Duo settled into position before folding him against his chest, allowing Duo to lay his head on his right shoulder.  
“Sleep with me tonight.”  
It wasn’t a command, but it was as close to a request as Trowa could bring himself to make.  
“Yeah,” Duo agreed, his voice thick.  
They continued to sit on the couch for another half hour while Trowa ran his hand over Duo’s back, using his memory to trace the tattoos and locate the scars. 

-o-  
When Trowa woke in the morning Duo was already dressed and sitting in the kitchenette.  
Trowa sniffed the air as he walked into the room.  
“Shandor let me borrow his percolator to keep it warm,” Duo said and gestured towards the coffee maker on the counter.  
Trowa didn’t bother to dress, but instead joined Duo at the small table, still naked, and accepted a cup of the steaming coffee.  
“Why?”  
“Because we need to talk and I don’t want Sylvan or anyone else around.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“What about?”  
“The troupe needs to leave the colony. Today if possible.”  
Duo’s voice was deadly serious, his eyes cold and his face set into the grim lines of Shinigami.   
Trowa could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Duo look like this since the war - and none of those times had been pleasant.  
“Why?”  
Duo shook his head.  
“I cannot just tell the troupe to pack up and go,” Trowa bit out. “Without some kind of reason.”  
“Think of something. But you need to get them out of here. This place… it’s just waiting to blow, Trowa. Any day now something is going to set off the MPs or the colonists. I don’t want you here when that happens.”  
“Will you be here what that happens?”  
Duo shrugged one shoulder and gave him his trademark smirk.  
“Who knows? Destiny has a funny way of working.”  
Trowa scowled.  
“Fuck destiny. What do you know?”  
Duo’s eyes grew even colder.  
“I know that you need to leave, Trowa. You need to tell Sylvan and everyone else whatever lie you want to but you need to leave.”  
Trowa sipped his coffee but, for the first time ever, it tasted bitter and it turned his stomach. He set the cup down.  
“You didn’t say anything last night.”  
Duo drew in a deep breath and slowly let it back out.  
“No,” he agreed. “I didn’t. Last night… last night wasn’t about today. Last night was just us. Like you said. I need you, I need that chance to be controlled. To belong. You were right. You’re always fucking right,” he added, a little sourly.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow at his tone but Duo just shook his head and ran one hand over his face.  
Trowa realized that Duo looked tired, his face pinched and tense lines drawing down the corners of his mouth.  
“How long have you been awake?”  
“Hours. Sorry. I slept as long as I could but… you know me. I’ve always been a restless sleeper.”  
Trowa nodded. Last night had been no different. Duo had watched Trowa undress, had made a teasing offer to relieve Trowa’s erection but Trowa had brushed him off and pulled Duo to his chest and held him, running his hand over Duo’s arm and side until Duo’s breath grew even and shallow. He had felt Duo wake up an hour or so later and had allowed him to shift away, but had kept one arm draped over him.  
“You know things aren’t right on this colony, Tro,” Duo persisted.  
Trowa had to nod again. Hadn’t he been thinking that since his arrival?  
“Leave,” Duo repeated. “Please.”

-o-


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I am NOT an expert on BDSM. But I’m trying to be better than 50 Shades so… that’s something, I think.  
A/N #2: Um… fair warning, this is not just porn without plot. So just… keep a weathered eye to the horizon, I guess?  
A/N #3: Some non 2x3 action this chapter. Be warned.

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter Four

Karma’s a bitch.  
Duo had said that once, during the war, all of them stationed on Peacemillion and Wufei had called him an idiot and a jackass and tried to storm out of the room but Heero had stepped in, had opened the door and slammed it into Wufei’s and Duo had cackled like a madman.  
Karma’s a bitch.  
Trowa had never believed in karma, at least he’d never wanted to, because if karma was a bitch - he had too much in store for himself, too much to atone for and he didn’t want to think it was possible, to think the universe existed on some kind of balance that would pay him back, yet would allow things to be as they were.  
Still, Trowa found himself thinking the words as he trailed behind Sylvan in the department store, as she sorted through the bins of shirts and pants and sneered at dresses and Trowa knew.   
Karma’s a bitch.  
The kind of bitch that saddled him with taking a thirteen year old girl shopping.  
It was a torture he deserved, he knew that, after the way things had gone this morning with Cathy and Shandor, as they practiced the new routine that August wanted them to use at their next stand.  
The routine was sure to be a hit with the crowds, and even though Trowa had pointed out that times were tough and using a giant tank of water for a trick again might not be the best statement to make he’d been overridden.   
So he found himself wrapped in chains and locks, suspended twenty feet in the air over a eight foot deep glass tank, a tank that would, eventually, be filled with water, but for now was simply stuffed with pillows and mats to cushion his fall.  
Eventually, Cathy would throw a dagger that would sever the rope suspending him and he would drop into the water, would have to free himself before he drowned and the crowd would think it was impressive, would think it was a miracle, but of course the chains were rigged, just waiting for Trowa to apply a little leverage and to search for the key at the bottom of the tank, even though he didn’t need the key, could pretend to find it if he ran out of time and could just open the locks without it.   
Still, it would be exciting, dramatic and death defying and all of the things Cathy liked about these kind of tricks, all of the things that made Trowa wonder if maybe she wasn’t more of a sadist than he was.  
Eventually. Eventually it would be exciting, dramatic and death defying.  
For now, as they practiced under Shandor’s watchful eye, it was just frustrating.  
Frustrating because Cathy had missed the mark three times now, and chains were chafing a bit, tugging on his underarm uncomfortably and Trowa didn’t, actually, enjoy being tied up and suspended twenty feet in the air while someone threw knives at him. Or at the rope above his head, which was near enough to him.  
Cathy missed again, and Trowa groaned aloud in frustration.  
“Oh calm down, you don’t have anything better to do,” Cathy muttered and she walked across the tent to pick up the dagger.  
It was true, and that was yet another source of frustration.  
Trowa was here, tied up and hanging in a damned circus tent, and outside the Earthsphere was falling apart. Ever since the X2913 riots, things had gone to shit.  
He’d come up with a good lie to get the circus to move, had told them that the dock workers were planning a strike and that if they didn’t leave the next day they were likely to be stuck there for weeks, and no one had wanted to stay. So the circus packed up and left, canceled the last two shows and the very next day, as their shuttle was still in transit, Trowa went up to the communications center and he saw the transmissions, watched the news scrolls, the footage of the riots on X2913, the dead in the thousands, and he searched for a familiar face, a familiar braid.  
That had been weeks ago, weeks of no word, of not knowing if Duo was alive or dead of what and of course there were thousands dead now, of course the riots had spread - that entire side of L2, X2913 and five sister colonies, had erupted in riots and were under military occupation and it was just a breath away from what it had been before, just a step away from open rebellion and things were supposed to be like this.  
Trowa wasn’t supposed to be chained up and hanging, unable to do anything, wanting to do something, needing to do something. Needing to know if Duo was even alive.  
He’d given in two days ago, when they set up their stand on X1256 and called first Quatre, because sometimes Quatre knew things, but Quatre hadn’t heard from Duo in four months, not since his last get together, when they had last all been together. So then he tried Heero, tried to ease it into conversation and he knew he’d been too obvious, because when did Trowa ever ask if Heero had heard from Duo recently? But Heero hadn’t, hadn’t been in contact with him for six weeks, and the riots had started three weeks ago. Wufei was even less help, snapping at Trowa to stop thinking like a soldier and just be a civilian, insisting that if Duo wanted to communicate with any of them he would and maybe Trowa was reading too much into it but Wufei had seemed worried, and Trowa wasn’t sure why Wufei would be worried, about Duo of all people.  
Cathy missed again, this time knicking his left shoulder and Trowa swore at her.  
“For fuck’s sake, Cathy!”  
She rolled her eyes.  
“The blade isn’t even sharp,” she muttered, and it was true - the knife cutting the rope was just another part of the illusion after all, the signal for Shandor to release the link holding Trowa up, to drop him into the tank. But it had to look good, had to look real, and Cathy throwing a knife at him, even dull, with that much force was going to hurt, was going to make him bleed.  
“It’s sharp enough,” he bitched. “Maybe you need to go back to target practice.”  
“And maybe you need to -”  
“Children,” Shandor interrupted, his voice patronizing and that upset Trowa too. Shandor’s unflappable calm. His oblivion to the hell that was erupting. Cathy’s inability to hit the damn mark, her insistence that they add this stupid trick. All of it was adding to his anger, his frustration and his tension and he didn’t want to be part of it anymore, didn’t want to feel this jumble of anxiety and fear and rage.  
He wiggled around, felt for the trick locks and released himself, falling with an oomphf onto the mats in the tank and wishing there were more of them, but it was too late now, and his ankle wasn’t broken, wasn’t even sprained and he could just walk it off.  
He had to jump up to catch the lip of the tank and pull himself out, Shandor and Cathy’s eyes on him the entire time.  
“We’ll practice when you can hit the damn mark,” Trowa muttered and walked past them, out of the tent, ignoring Cathy’s outraged sounds and Shandor’s look of mild disappointment.  
He stormed across the circus grounds, back to his tent, not really knowing what the hell he would do when he got there - maybe email Wufei again? Just to make sure someone else was just as irritated as he was? - but he was stopped by Simza, poking her head out of the food cart.  
“Trowa! Oh, are you done practicing already?”  
Trowa frowned but he refused to feel guilty.  
“For today.”  
“Oh, well, are you busy? Do you have time before the show to do me a favor?”  
Simza was covered in flour. Everyone in the troupe had multiple jobs - performing and taking care of the troupe and the equipment and Trowa knew he had it pretty easy, easier than most because all he did was perform, make sure none of the equipment broke and prayed it held out until Duo could look at it and help out with the animals, clean their cages in the mornings and feed them with Pesha. Simza, though, had her chores, her performance, and her children to see to. She didn’t have the luxury of sulking in her trailer.  
Trowa sighed.  
“Of course.”  
She smiled brightly and Trowa instantly regretted whatever he had just agreed to.  
“Oh, thank you. Sylvan needs new clothes - she’s outgrown everything and she’s tired of Nicholae’s old things and… and things have been okay recently. She could use a few new things.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“You want me to take her shopping.”  
Simza nodded.  
“Yes. I had planned to do it today but things are busy here - you know how it goes - and she can’t go on her own, not with things like they are and Nicholae is busy too and -”  
Trowa held up a hand.  
“It’s not a problem,” he assured her, even though it was, because how the hell was he in any way qualified to take a thirteen year old girl clothes shopping?  
Simza smiled again, this time in relief.  
“Thank you. She should be at our trailer. Hopefully finishing her chores.”  
Trowa nodded and turned back around, away from his trailer and his planned sulking and walked towards Simza’s trailer.  
He knocked and after a moment Sylvan answered. She opened the door wide and looked past him, clearly hoping that he had Duo in tow.  
“He’s not here,” he sighed and she looked disappointed. “You know he never visits again so soon,” he said, trying to comfort her, to remind himself that Duo was fine. Wasn’t dead. Wasn’t butchered like some of the bodies he had seen, didn’t have Terran scum carved into his flesh.  
“Yeah,” she agreed and sighed.  
“Your mom wants me to take you shopping.”  
She looked shocked by that, and then her lips twitched in amusement. Trowa rolled his eyes.  
“Get your money - and don’t make any bratty comments or I’ll take you to a military surplus store and you can wear the same kit I used to.”  
Sylvan snorted, but obeyed him, and they set off for the commercial center of the colony.  
It was a nicer colony, and even though the circus grounds weren’t in the heart of the colony, not in the posh entertainment district, they had had fair crowds, had had no trouble, and it was almost easy to forget that it wasn’t like this everywhere.  
Almost, but not really possible, because the news scrolls were everyone, in all of the shops, all streaming details about the riots, speeches by politicians, fires and corpses one second and Relena and Quatre another, recommending negotiations and ceasefires and pacifism and Trowa tried not to look at them, tried to keep his focus on the ground and the chill of the colony climate settings. Most colonies ran colder these days, cutting back on heat and some utilities to save money, the recession affecting even the wealthy L1 sector and Trowa knew things were going to get worse, there were going to be more riots, and he didn’t know what to do about it, what he even could do or even wanted to do.  
Sylvan came to a stop outside of a cafe, the open door allowing the volume from the news scrolls to filter outside, and Trowa reluctantly stopped beside her, reluctantly watched the news feed.  
It was the same thing every day, the same images, the same vids, the only thing changing was the rising body count, the growing number of colonies under martial law and Trowa wondered if someday soon there wouldn’t be vids of mobile suits patrolling the streets.  
But then it was different - then the vids cut away to a news caster, announcing the release of a vid from the rebels behind the riots, and Trowa inched closer, stepped inside the cafe and dragged Sylvan with him.  
The vid was good quality, better quality than most of the live footage of the riots, and the man on the screen reminded Trowa of Duo, with his loose red bandana around his neck and his black, threadbare work shirt. But it wasn’t Duo, and while the man dressed like Duo, that was where the resemblance ended - he had thick, short black hair and honest, soft brown eyes. He didn’t look like a rebel, like a terrorist. He looked like the kind of man who helped old women with their groceries, and Trowa thought cynically that he had probably been picked to make this vid for that very reason.  
“I speak for all of those who have no voice.” He didn’t sound like Duo either, and Trowa abandoned all comparisons. This man was cool, calculated, cultivated - he was more like Treize than Duo, Trowa thought.   
“Eight years ago humanity entered a new golden age, and age of freedom and prosperity and equality. But where is that freedom? Where is that prosperity? Where is that equality? It is still in the hands of the few - the Terrans and their colonist collaborators, and the rest of us, the workers, the ones always without, remain under the heel of oppression. The only thing that has changed is the will to rebel. But that time has ended. The glory of pacifistic oppression is over. There is no uniform to this rebellion, no machines of death to rally behind - we have only each other, only our brothers and sisters and only together can we change this, can we break free of these chains. Only together can we stop the oppressors, only together can we destroy the masters.”  
The vid cut out and the news scroll switched back to the caster, who scrambled for a response, and Trowa led Sylvan away. He didn’t care what the suit had to say, didn’t want to hear the analysis and debate over the meaning of the vid.   
The meaning was clear.  
War was coming.  
Sylvan was silent as they continued on to the commercial center, and Trowa followed her into a department store, let her look through bins of clothes and he wished he was better at this, wished he knew what it was like to be thirteen and look for clothes and try to rationalize that vid, the riots, the chaos of the world.  
But when Trowa was thirteen he could disassemble and reassemble a gun in under a minute while blindfolded, he could pilot a mobile suit, he could kill with dispassion and he had learned to shove a fist in his own mouth so he didn’t cry out when rough hands grabbed for him at night. At thirteen Trowa had stopped trying to rationalize anything, had been so focused on just surviving that he hadn’t known what it meant, to rationalize. To care.  
“There’s going to be another war.” Sylvan’s voice was quiet, and even though it wasn’t a question Trowa knew she wanted a response.  
“Yes.”  
“Will you fight again?”  
Trowa didn’t know. Didn’t know how to answer that. He sure as hell didn’t want to - but he would, if he needed to, not like before, though. He wouldn’t join a side, wouldn’t defend the colonies or the Earthsphere or any of that. He’d protect the troupe, he’d stay with them and try to keep them safe and that was the only thing he could think of worth doing.  
“Maybe,” he allowed, because he wasn’t going to explain that to Sylvan. He couldn’t.  
“Are you scared?”  
“Only an idiot wouldn’t be scared,” he told her the truth. She nodded, accepting that.  
“The troupe survived the last war,” he reminded her, though she had been too young, only four or five, and she probably remembered waking up in the night to fire and explosions, but not much else.  
“But it’s going to be different this time, isn’t it?” Sylvan persisted.  
“Probably,” Trowa allowed. He didn’t want to have this conversation with her, because he only knew how to talk about war with fellow soldiers, only knew tactics and the cold, harsh reality that there was never a winning side in a war, and he didn’t want to tell Sylvan that. Didn’t want to tell her that it would be different, that it could be so much worse this time, because the enemy wasn’t the same, the enemy wasn’t Treize, wasn’t OZ, wasn’t an old guard Terran overlord but it was anyone who wasn’t without.  
He sighed.  
“We came to shop. We’ll have to get back to the circus soon for the show - try to find some clothes so your mother doesn’t yell at me.”  
Sylvan regarded him with narrowed eyes, knowing he was forcing a change in subject, knowing he wanted her to drop this, but she let him, shrugging and turning away to keep looking through the clothes, to pick through them until she had a small armful and Trowa hoped they were what Simza wanted for her, hoped they were things that would last - but Sylvan wasn’t frivolous, at least, he didn’t think she was until she stopped by a row of dresses.   
She ran her hands over them. They weren’t fashionable, weren’t the kinds of things Relena wore, but they were a popular style on the colonies, the longer skirt and the wide, square neck reminding Trowa of illustrations he had seen in a Terran fairy tale book once. The material was solid, at least, not flimsy but some kind of cotton blend that would hold up well, as far as Trowa knew about these things.  
“Does Duo like dresses?”  
Trowa stared.  
“To wear?”  
She glared at him.  
“No. Does he like it when girls wear dresses?”  
The question set Trowa aback. He thought about it, thought about the women Duo even knew - Hilde, who, as far as Trowa knew, had only ever worn a dress to Quatre and Relena’s wedding. Relena, who practically lived in ball gowns and designer clothes. Cathy, who wore short, theatrical dresses at the circus but preferred jeans when she wasn’t performing.   
“I guess,” he finally answered, because Duo had never expressed an opinion either way - he always told Relena she looked beautiful, so maybe he did?  
It was only as Sylvan started to look for a dress in her size that Trowa started to put it together, realized why Sylvan would ask, would care about Duo’s opinion.  
And maybe Trowa was just cruel, to find it funny that Sylvan had a crush on Duo, or at least wanted to buy a dress if he liked them on girls, but it… it was the only thing this entire damn day that didn’t leave him feeling uneasy.  
She settled on a white one, and while Trowa knew it would be more practical if she went for something darker, the way she smiled slightly and held it up against her and gave a twirl convinced him to buy it for her himself if she couldn’t afford it with her other things. There was a war coming, but if she could enjoy just this - if she could wear a white cotton dress and look like one of those characters in a fairy tale - wasn’t that all Trowa really wanted anyway? For Sylvan to be able to do that? For Cathy to be able to yell at him and fight with him when he snapped at her for missing? Didn’t he just want the troupe to be safe, to be happy?

-o-

When they got back to the grounds it was nearly time for the evening show, and Trowa had to rush through his chores to be ready in time, but he made it, barely, and Cathy bitched about that and he let her. The show was okay - not great, and the audience talked about the vid, the rebel vid that had been released and as Trowa wandered the grounds after the show, cleaning up and making sure everyone left and the troupe was secure, he felt some of his earlier tension return.  
That vid.  
The man wasn’t really like Treize either. Treize, who was so cold and calculating - this man was different. He was so much more sincere than Treize ever had been, his eyes full of pain and sympathy and Trowa had heard the murmurs, had heard people talk about the collaborators already, and it worried him.  
He finished his rounds, checked in on the animals, and was headed for his trailer when Shandor stopped him, calling out his name softly.  
Trowa walked over to the open door of his trailer where Shandor leaned, his powerful body almost filling up the narrow opening.  
“There is something you need, isn’t there?” Shandor asked, his voice still soft, but there was an undercurrent of steel and Trowa shivered.  
He swallowed, hesitated, but then he nodded.  
“Go to your place.”  
Shandor stepped aside and Trowa entered the trailer, climbed up the stairs and started to strip even before Shandor closed the door. He folded his clothes neatly, placed them on the floor just as he always had, and then he braced himself against the wall, spreading his arms and legs wide and pressing his palms against the wall and looking down, waiting.  
“How long has it been since you’ve been disciplined?” Shandor asked.  
“Three years.”  
“Indeed?”  
It had been six years since Trowa had been with Shandor, and he could hear the jealousy in that word, that question. It had only been once, well a handful of times, three years ago on X4561. Trowa had gone to a club, some well known den of vice but none of the subs had interested him, they’d been too eager for rough sex and he hadn’t been in the mood and had been ready to leave when he’d seen a tall, thin man who made Trowa’s pulse race and he’d gone to him, five nights in a row, submitting to him and experiencing some of the most thorough beatings he had ever had administered to him, and some of the most intense orgasms, drawn from his body with cries of anguish and pleasure.  
“Yes,” Trowa confirmed.  
“Have you forgotten that it isn’t only your submissive who must embrace discipline, moj cenny jeden?” Shandor’s voice was a dangerous, velvet caress.  
“No,” Trowa said, but he suspected he had, suspected Shandor would refute his claim.  
Shandor made a tsking sound.  
“Oh, but you have. You forget that discipline is everything. You forget that there must be release. Tell me, moj cenny jeden, have you felt release?”  
“No,” Trowa admitted, because while he had allowed himself to orgasm once with Duo, had certainly masturbated since then, it hadn’t felt like release, hadn’t emptied him the way it could.  
“What good are you to him if you cannot even control yourself?” Shandor sounded disappointed.  
“I can control myself,” Trowa argued.  
Shandor laughed at him.  
“Repressing yourself is not control, Trowa. We learned that lesson years ago, did we not?”  
Shandor had worked hard to make him feel, to make him cry, to make him feel every moment of exquisite torture and release.  
“Yes,” he agreed.  
“Your mind is so cluttered. Your feelings are everywhere, and you are no good to anyone like this. No good for him.”  
Trowa swallowed hard. It was true enough, but then - would he even see Duo again?  
“You have gone easy on him, you have tried to ease him into this, haven’t you?”  
Trowa nodded.  
“Yes,” he said, speaking up when he felt the press of Shandor’s palm against the base of his spine. Shandor always wanted a verbal acknowledgement from Trowa, never trusted his gestures to be honest.  
“It will not work, Trowa. You cannot keep him beside you, you cannot lead him in deeper one step at a time. You must give him lessons that he will remember, that will show him what he needs. You must force him to submit, not to merely allow you to have your way with him. There is a difference, moj cenny jeden. You know this.”  
Trowa hung his head.  
Perhaps that was part of it, perhaps Duo was simply allowing Trowa to control him, to dominate him, without really submitting to him. But he wasn’t sure if Duo himself knew the difference.  
“Have you punished him?”  
“No.”  
Shandor made an exasperated sound.  
“You spoil him already?”  
“I -”  
“Do not argue with me, Trowa,” Shandor’s voice could cut through flesh, it was so sharp and Trowa instantly fell silent. “He he disobeyed? Has he disappointed you?”  
“Yes,” Trowa admitted.  
“The punishment must be harsh, Trowa, not because you enjoy his suffering then, but because it is the only way he will appreciate his discipline, the only way he will crave the pain you can give him, the pleasure he feels at your touch. But discipline is nothing without consequence. It is only routine.”  
“I know,” Trowa said, and Shandor was right. He always was.  
He heard Shandor step away, heard him leave the room, and when he came back a moment later Trowa knew what was coming, felt the thrill of fear and anticipation coil deep inside of him when Shandor rested the bamboo cane against his bare ass.   
“Let me remind you what release is, Trowa,” Shandor said, his only warning before he drew back the cane and brought it back with enough force to steal Trowa’s breath.  
He’d forgotten what it felt like, the biting pain, the burn, and he was having trouble breathing by the third blow, could feel tears running down his cheeks by the seventh, and by the eleventh he was trembling, barely standing. And Shandor caught him after the fifteenth blow, held him close and let his sob against his chest and he stroked his hair and Trowa felt empty for the first time in months, felt the swirl of rage and tension leave his body and all he felt was the pain, the abuse of his flesh and his gratitude to Shandor, for giving this to him, for letting him simply exist, simply feel and forget how to think, how to fear.  
Shandor stroked his hair until his tears stopped, and then he urged Trowa to stand on his own again, to return to his place facing the wall.  
“You must learn to experience this through him, Trowa. You must learn to taste his pain as your own.”  
It had been easier, with the subs Trowa had met over the years, men who meant nothing to him outside of a temporary partnership, who he viewed as part of a job more than anything else, whose needs he saw to because he could. But he needed Duo in a way he had never needed anyone and it had changed everything for him, had muddled things.  
“You always did enjoy the pleasure of others above your own,” Shandor continued, running one hand down Trowa’s side and around to his cock, stroking the firm flesh. Trowa had been embarrassed at first, with Shandor, embarrassed at his arousal after such abuse but Shandor had praised him, had made him feel it was the most natural thing for Trowa’s cock to ache from a beating. “I am sure you spoil him horribly with pleasure.”  
“I try not to,” Trowa panted.  
“Hm. But his face must be impossible to deny,” Shandor murmured. “When he begs you for release - oh it must be so hard to deny him.”  
“I haven’t,” Trowa moaned, his hips bucking against Shandor’s hand.  
“You must, moj cenny jeden. He will never miss what he has always had.”   
Trowa whimpered when Shandor moved away.   
And then Shandor was back, firm, slick fingers pressed against Trowa’s anus and Trowa drew in a deep breath and held himself still.   
Shandor was rarely gentle, rarely forgiving, and this time was the same as so many others, a firm, forceful intrusion that had Trowa sucking in a breath and then gasping when Shandor added a second finger and plunged in deeply.  
“He already craves your touch, doesn’t he?” Shandor asked.  
“Yes,” Trowa panted.  
“But does he beg you for the pain, or just the pleasure?”  
“Just the pleasure.”  
“And is that enough for you? Is that what you need?”  
“No, no.” Trowa had to close his eyes, had to concentrate on not coming yet.  
“What do you need, Trowa? What do you need from your Duo?”  
Trowa grit his teeth and tried to focus, tried to piece together coherent thought as Shandor ruthlessly continued to finger him.  
“I need his submission. I need to hear him beg for the pain- the pain and the pleasure. I need him to beg for discipline.”  
“Yes,” Shandor encouraged Trowa, his voice the only thing gentle.  
“Do not forget that he needs you just as you need him, moj cenny jeden. Do not forget that the leash ties you together.”  
“Yes, oh, please, please can I come?”  
“No,” Shandor said, his voice lazy and cruel and Trowa shuddered and tried to fight his orgasm, tried to fight the build of pleasure.  
He bit his lip hard, desperate, and he tasted the bitter iron tang of his own blood.  
Trowa trembled, found himself crying again in frustration and he tried, tried so damn hard to fight it and it was a different kind of pain, an agony more subtle than the sting of the bamboo cane and it had always been Shandor’s favorite abuse, denying Trowa orgasm until he was shaking and sobbing unable to do more than mumble.  
And soon he was at that point again, saying please over and over again until the word lost meaning and he was choking on his own tears, drawing in shallow, ragged breaths.  
“Come for me, Trowa,” Shandor said, finally giving him permission, and it truly was a release, the orgasm and the stillness of Shandor’s fingers inside his body. It was a release, just as the pain had been, and it made Trowa feel clean and whole.  
“Thank you,” he managed to say. “Thank you.”  
Shandor pressed a kiss to Trowa’s back, between his shoulders.  
“Get dressed. Go to your trailer. Sleep. Tomorrow you will practice and you will focus. You will become the man you need to be, Trowa. You will become the master he needs you to be.”

-o-


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I am NOT an expert on BDSM. But I’m trying to be better than 50 Shades so… that’s something, I think.  
A/N #2: Um… fair warning, this is not just porn without plot. So just… keep a weathered eye to the horizon, I guess?

 

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter Five

It took every ounce of Trowa’s not insignificant self control to not drop his jacket, cross the distance from the entrance of his trailer to where Duo knelt, and pull him against him.   
As it was, he had to pause, had to breath deeply and force himself to go through the routine of hanging up his jacket, of securing his gun and sitting down to take off his boots while Duo looked at him with those dark blue eyes that saw everything and Trowa felt a little raw, felt too much relief at Duo’s presence and he needed too much to touch him, to feel his hair and his skin and his mouth and so he sat down on the couch, as far away as he could get, and he fought to get control over himself.  
There were new scars, a just healed gunshot wound on Duo’s right shoulder that was shiny and pink and Trowa knew Duo would offer no explanation, and before - before this thing between them began, before the riots, Trowa wouldn’t have given it more than idle thought, because Duo could take care of himself, had survived damn near any kind of death trap imaginable. But that had been before.  
“I would have come sooner,” Duo spoke up, his voice soft, unsure of how welcome his words would be.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
Duo shrugged, the gesture sensuous with his hands folded behind his head, and Trowa wondered how long he had been like this, because surely his shoulder was sore.  
“Didn’t think you’d be too thrilled to see a boot print over my kidneys and I can’t say I was too eager for a beating when I was still covered in bruises.”  
Trowa swallowed down his first three responses to that.  
“There are other ways to discipline you, if you aren’t in the condition to be bent over my knee,” Trowa finally murmured. “Come to me when you can, Duo. I’d rather see you covered in bruises than not see you at all.”  
Duo held his gaze for a long moment, and Trowa knew he had given too much away, but it was too late now, the words out there, and Duo nodded, accepting it. Accepting him.  
Trowa still felt a little shaky, his tongue too large in his own mouth and his heartbeat too loud but he rested one hand on his right knee and Duo came to him, crawled into his lap and put his hands on Trowa’s shoulders and Trowa pulled his head down and kissed him, worshipped Duo’s mouth and caressed his tongue until Duo was hard, until he was moaning and his heartbeat drummed against Trowa’s chest.  
Trowa pulled back, looked at Duo’s swollen lips, his flushed face and his closed eyes and he felt his heart constrict painfully.  
Karma’s a bitch. He’d found himself thinking that too often recently.   
Here he was, desperately in love with a man he could not keep, could not hope to have by his side. It served him right, he knew, for all the things he had done. It served him right and this would only, could only, end badly. But it hadn’t ended yet.  
He ran his thumb over Duo’s lips, parting them and Duo licked at his thumb, opened his lips and sucked on it and Trowa hummed in approval.  
Duo opened his eyes and looked at him, his dark gaze filled with lust and something more, something that made Trowa feel immense and insignificant at the same time.  
Trowa ran his other hand through Duo’s bangs, smirking when Duo nipped at his thumb and Duo smiled around the digit, his wide lips still wet and bright and Trowa pulled his thumb away and kissed him again.  
“Stand up,” he said after he felt Duo start to shift in his lap impatiently, eager for friction and release.  
Duo did as ordered, standing up and his hands went to the back of his head again and Trowa stood as well. He walked around Duo’s body, looked him over for anything he might have missed, any tattoos or other wounds, and he spotted the clown mask at the small of Duo’s back. The half mask with the four pointed star for an eye and the wide mouth. It took a solid minute for his brain to process it, to identify it as his mask, the one Duo had seen him wear countless times.  
He reached out, traced over it and felt Duo shiver.  
“I said you didn’t need to change your body for me,” Trowa reminded him.  
“I know,” Duo said, his voice soft and uncertain again. “But I needed to do it.”  
Trowa swallowed hard, and he wondered if the other tattoos were the same for Duo, if they were a need.  
“All of your injuries are healed?” He asked. He hadn’t seen anything aside from the gunshot wound, and obviously that was healed enough for Duo to work through whatever residual pain and soreness he felt.  
“Yeah,” Duo said and his voice betrayed his anticipation, his understanding that Trowa wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity.  
Trowa left him standing there and went into his bedroom, pulled out the slim metal case that held his tools, the things he used on his pets and he opened it and removed the riding crop and the blindfold before putting the case back under the bed.  
Duo was still standing, still obediently waiting for him.  
“Move your hands lower,” Trowa instructed. “To the nape of your neck.”  
Duo complied and Trowa put the crop between his teeth and tied the blindfold around Duo’s head.  
His breath caught and Trowa heard him try to steady himself, draw in several deep breaths.  
Trowa held the crop loosely in his left hand and used his right to touch Duo, to run his fingers over his spine in a soothing line.  
“Red or yellow?”  
“Neither,” Duo breathed, but he didn’t sound so sure - certainly didn’t sound on the verge of shouting green again, and Trowa had anticipated this.  
Maybe Shandor would have gone ahead and bound Duo’s hands as well, but as much as Trowa respected Shandor, the partnership Trowa and Duo had was… unique in a lot of ways. It wasn’t just that the two of them were dark and damaged, it wasn’t just that they had suffered abuse for years, it wasn’t just that they had killed, had lost everything and everyone. They had been through hell and back again but only barely, only just managing to stay sane and Trowa knew Duo needed this, knew that Duo could find release, could find peace and and he could belong if Trowa did this right. But if Trowa did it wrong…  
“Do you still trust me?”  
“Yes,” Duo said, his voice catching. “Yes,” he repeated, his voice stronger this time.   
Easier said than done, Trowa knew, and when he lashed out with the crop and caught the meaty part of Duo’s flank he wasn’t surprised when Duo took a step forward, when he almost lost his balance and he cried out in shock.  
Trowa let him compose himself.  
“Spread your legs wider,” Trowa instructed and Duo shifted, balanced himself better and Trowa hit him again, letting the rigid tip catch his chest and Duo bit his lip and he groaned.  
He alternated between the tip and the slim rod, alternating between keeping his wrist rigid as he delivered the blows or letting it flex and he knew it had to hurt, the stinging, the burn and Duo cried out, rocked forwards and backwards but he didn’t move again, didn’t lose his balance.   
After ten blows Trowa paused, swung the crop as though to deliver another blow, but as it touched Duo’s skin he gentled the touch, let it whisper across his ass and Duo whimpered.  
“You are doing so very well,” Trowa told him.   
“Thank you,” Duo said, his voice shaky, and Trowa could hear the thickness of tears, knew that Duo was only barely holding himself together and maybe he should allow him that, but Trowa needed to see Duo’s face wet and red and his eyes bright and wild again.  
He delivered another harsh blow and Duo cried out, his hands fisting at the nape of his neck, clawing at his own hair.  
Trowa used his right index finger to trace over one of the welts left by the crop and Duo shuddered, leaned into the touch.  
“Your body is so beautiful,” Trowa murmured. “So perfect for my discipline.”  
He struck again and Duo cried out again, his voice a little hoarse, and Trowa knew that alternating the softer touches of his hand and the crop was making it worse, was breaking Duo’s focus and self-control and that was what Trowa wanted, what he needed from him.  
He hit him again, the tip of the crop catching the fleshy part of his right thing and then he edged it along to Duo’s cock, pressed his erection and spread the glistening bead of precum down the shaft.  
Duo moaned and then finally sobbed, finally cried as Trowa wanted him to when he struck his cock, when the tip of the crop slapped against the rigid flesh and Duo’s teeth were gritted against the pain but Trowa heard him sob all the same, saw the way Duo struggled to breath.  
But his erection did not diminish, even after Trowa hit it again, even after he saw the tracks of tears leak through the blindfold and the muscles in Duo’s arms jump.  
“So very perfect,” Trowa said again, pressing his lips against Duo’s ear and Duo shivered, tried to lean against him and Trowa hit him again, the blow making Duo’s cock bob up and down and his knees shook.  
“If only you could see your own cock, Duo, if only you could see how eager it is for my touch, how eager it is for another blow.”  
Duo gasped, moaned when Trowa hit hit again, this time on his left thigh, close to his cock, close enough for Duo to jump.  
Trowa stepped back, away from Duo’s body and he left him swaying, reeling from the sensations and he watched Duo try to steady himself, try to regain his breath and prepare for another onslaught.  
Trowa kept him waiting, watched the glistening tear tracks dry on Duo’s cheeks and his heaving chest rise and fall.  
He stepped closer again, flicked the crop close to Duo’s body, letting the air rush against his skin but not touching him.  
Duo rocked again, anticipating the blows but confused when none came.  
“Beg me,” Trowa instructed. “Beg for my touch Duo. If you want your discipline to continue, you must beg for it.”  
Duo seemed to fight the idea, to resist having to beg for pain instead of just sexual release, but Trowa stood back and waited.  
“Please,” Duo finally said, his voice rough. “Please discipline me.”  
Trowa hit him again, three quick blows across his ass and Duo cried out after each one, sobbed again and it was different this time, it was truly Duo letting go, truly submitting and Trowa’s blood sang, hearing the change in Duo’s cries, feeling the resistance in his body sink away.  
After the third blow he set the crop down on the kitchen table, letting it thud and Duo jumped at the noise.  
Trowa ghosted his fingertips over Duo’s sides, from his armpits to his hips and Duo whimpered again. Trowa knelt in front of him and blew hot air on Duo’s cock.  
Duo gasped, clearly not expecting it, and Trowa licked him, laved the sensitive, abused flesh and Duo mumbled something incoherent.  
Trowa opened his mouth wide and bobbed down the length of Duo’s cock, drawing him deep into his mouth and throat and Duo groaned, a low, primal sound of pleasure that electrified Trowa.  
“I like that,” Duo breathed. “God Trowa, I like that so much.”  
This was probably another thing Shandor wouldn’t approve of. Not Trowa kneeling in front of Duo, not Trowa using his mouth on Duo’s cock, but Trowa didn’t see how this position lessened his control of Duo at all. It tested him, to be sure. He could feel Duo’s muscles shuddering under his grip, as Duo held himself in check and didn’t thrust forward, and Trowa knew it was difficult, oh so difficult not to actively seek pleasure after the sharp pain of a flogging. But Duo held still, let Trowa caress him and suck him and drag his teeth against the sensitive underside.  
“Please,” Duo’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Please, Trowa, can I come for you?”  
Trowa pulled back, replaced his mouth with his hand and looked up at Duo’s face, at his bottom lip once again pinched between his teeth as he tried to control himself.  
“Yes, Duo. You can come for me.”  
Trowa felt Duo’s hips jerk and he moved forward again, catching the head of Duo’s cock in his mouth and Duo swore and he emptied himself in Trowa’s mouth. Trowa swallowed him, sucked at the head of Duo’s cock until he was empty and shuddering and then he released him.  
Trowa sat back on his heels so he could look at Duo more, could see just how utterly devastated he was, how completely undone.  
He was gorgeous, beautiful in a way that took Trowa’s breath away and made his heart hurt.  
Trowa stared at him for a few minutes, until Duo’s breathing was normal again, and then he rose to his feet and went into the bathroom to get the aloe.  
He came back out and tugged the blindfold free. In the future, he would leave it on for this as well, because the anticipation of relief was almost as powerful as the anticipation of pain, but Duo had endured enough already.  
Duo blinked against the light, and his eyes were still bright and wet and half-wild and Trowa had to kiss him, had to see Duo’s eyes widen and then flutter closed.  
“Put your arms down,” Trowa instructed when he stepped back, and Duo obeyed with a slight from.  
Trowa ran his fingers over the shiny wound and Duo nodded.  
“Thank you.”  
“Tell me, if it hurts too much,” Trowa told him, because as much as Trowa wanted, needed Duo to feel pain, he wanted it to be pain of his own doing.  
Duo nodded again, but it was clear that he wouldn’t say anything, was too stubborn and it was going to be a problem, some day soon Trowa knew, but for tonight he let it go.  
Trowa spread the aloe over the welts on Duo’s skin, his torso, his thighs, his ass and his cock and by the time he was done Duo was hard and whimpering again.  
“You were very good tonight,” Trowa told him. “You pleased me.”  
Duo arched an eyebrow at that and Trowa smirked.  
“Would you like a reward?”  
“Yes,” Duo said immediately.  
“Shall I brush your hair again or would you like to request something else?” Trowa tugged on Duo’s cock a little, offering him the chance to get off again.  
Duo closed his eyes, swayed a little.  
“Could I get you off?”   
It was Trowa’s turn to arch an eyebrow when Duo opened his eyes, when he blushed under Trowa’s stare.  
“You wouldn’t like something else instead?”  
Duo shook his head.  
“Not tonight. I want to make you come. I want to taste you again.”  
Trowa swallowed hard.  
“Please?” Duo added.  
“Very well,” Trowa conceded, gave in because this was Duo’s reward and if that was really what he wanted… Trowa saw no reason to deny either one of them.  
Duo knelt down in front of him and set about efficiently undoing Trowa’s belt and trousers, pulling them down with his boxers and Trowa didn’t bother to step out of them, especially not when Duo immediately leaned forward to taste him, his tongue darting out to lick the head, the shaft, his balls.  
Trowa threaded the fingers of his right hand through Duo’s hair, encouraging him and he explored, as he eased his mouth over Trowa’s cock and tried to work his length deep into his mouth and throat.  
Duo choked and Trowa used his hold to tug his head back.  
“You don’t have to go so deep,” he told him. “Only take in as much as you’re comfortable with.”  
Duo nodded once and he tried again, not taking Trowa in quite as deep this time.  
“Very good. That feels wonderful,” Trowa told him.  
Duo hummed in gratitude and Trowa moaned.  
“Oh yes, do that again.”  
Duo hummed again and Trowa gave an appreciated tug on his bangs.  
“Very good, Duo.”  
Duo worked at Trowa’s cock with the same deliberate attention he gave any problem, any machine, any task and it felt divine to have Duo’s entire focus on him, on his cock and his pleasure.  
“Would you like me to come in your mouth?” Trowa asked as he neared orgasm.  
Duo nodded his head, arched his neck so he could look up at Trowa with wide, eager eyes.  
“Make sure you swallow every drop,” Trowa said and Duo nodded again.  
Trowa came with a low moan, Duo’s name on his lips and Duo’s mouth on his cock, sucking and swallowing him down.  
He eased back after a moment, after he came down from that blissful release.  
Duo looked up at him and Trowa smirked.  
“That was very good, Duo.”  
“Thank you,” Duo said and he grinned, his normal lopsided expression but it was genuine, as it so rarely was.  
Trowa pulled his boxers and pants back up and fastened them before sitting down on the couch. He motioned for Duo to join him, to climb back onto his lap again and Duo did so, resting his head on Trowa’s shoulder when Trowa pulled him close.  
“I missed you,” Trowa admitted, though he doubted he needed to say it aloud for Duo to know. Still, the words themselves meant something, the admission.  
“I came back,” Duo reminded him.  
Trowa traced over the gunshot wound.  
“You brought a little less of you this time,” he pointed out.  
“I brought all that I could,” Duo returned, his voice quiet and solemn and Trowa knew he should drop it, knew this line of conversation would lead nowhere good.  
“There’s going to be another war.”  
“There was always going to be another war,” Duo sighed and he burrowed deeper, pressed his face against Trowa’s heart and Trowa knew that it was Duo asking him to stop, to let it go.  
“We didn’t die in the last one,” Duo said, speaking up before Trowa could. “We didn’t die then.”  
Which didn’t mean they wouldn’t die this time, that they wouldn’t die now.

-o-

Trowa wasn’t the only one relieved to see Duo. Even if none of the troupe suspected Duo was involved in something dangerous that took away chunks of his flesh, they knew what was happening on the other colonies and they knew that Duo traveled to places that weren’t safe.  
Sylvan spent the entire day following him around. She spotted him in the morning, fixing one of the mechanical racing games, and went rushing back to her trailer to change into her white dress and Trowa had decided to spend most of his day following Duo too and he saw Duo’s face when Sylvan approached him in her dress, saw his look of confusion and then his slow grin when he told her she looked like someone he’d read about in a book once and Sylvan’s face went red and she grinned back.  
It was adorable, misguided, but harmless enough and Duo spent the rest of the day calling her princess, which seemed to delight her and irritate her in equal measure.  
Duo ate the evening meal with Trowa, Cathy and Besnik and Trowa allowed Cathy to get in a few jibes, to say that hopefully now Trowa would relax and stop being such a pain in everyone’s ass, to say that it was only when Duo was around that he remembered to act like a human.  
Duo arched an eyebrow at that, at the scowl on Trowa’s face because it was one thing for him to admit to Duo that he missed him, entirely another for Cathy to make him out to be a lovesick fool.  
After the show, Trowa did his usual patrol of the circus grounds and tried to decide what he would do to Duo tonight. He’d seen the welts on his skin that morning, in bed when Duo woke up and it had given Trowa a dark, possessive delight to see the marks. But he didn’t want to overdo things, so perhaps it was time to teach Duo denial, to refuse him release.  
Trowa walked back towards his trailer thinking of just how much Duo was likely to reject that kind of discipline and he thought this would probably be the night when he finally had to punish him - but Trowa’s thoughts were put on hold when he saw a cluster of lights by Simza’s trailer.  
Frowning, he walked over and as he neared he could see several members of the troupe - Nicholae, Pesha, Besnik, Nadya and August - standing outside of the open door to the trailer.  
“What’s going on?” He asked.  
August sighed heavily.  
“Sylvan. She was attacked.”  
“When? Who?” Trowa felt the chill of rage settle into his belly, quickly followed by unease. Had this just happened? As he was patrolling?  
“During the show,” August said. “She was cleaning up the food cart and - “  
“And some idiots tried to rape her.”  
Duo stood just inside the trailer, and his face was illuminated enough for Trowa to see his anger, his disgust - and his bloody nose.  
“You stopped them.”  
Duo nodded and Trowa let out a relieved breath.  
“Where are they now?”  
Duo sneered.   
“Gone. I should have stopped them but I was more worried about Sylvan.” He jerked his head, indicating the trailer. “We should give them some space.”  
Duo stepped down and closed the door behind himself.  
“Pesha, you and Nicholae check the trailers. Make sure everyone is safe tonight.”  
Nicholae looked furious, but the task would at least let him find a use for his anger and Trowa was impressed that August recognized that.  
“Everyone else,” August continued, “try to -”  
He trailed off as a wash of light illuminated all of them.  
Trowa turned, shielding his eyes with his hand.  
Colonial MPs.  
“There was an attack on this premises tonight,” one of the MPs said, stepping forward.  
He was young, maybe Trowa’s age, and he had the tall, wide build of a Terran.   
“Yeah,” Duo said. “A girl was almost raped. She -”  
“I’m talking about the attack on the governor’s son. Someone nearly beat him to death.”  
Duo sneered and Trowa felt his stomach sink.  
“If the governor’s son is the worthless prink who tried to rape a thirteen year old then it’s a shame he wasn’t beaten to death.”  
“Was it you?” The MP asked, shining his flashlight on Duo’s face, on the blood trickling from his nose and the bruise forming around his right eye.  
Trowa and Besnik stepped forward, in front of Duo.  
The MPs laughed.  
“Yeah, it’s him. Look at this scum trying to protect him.”  
The lead MP made a gesture with his hands and three of the others stepped forward.  
Trowa and Besnik pushed them back.  
“Don’t,” Duo warned. “‘S not worth you two getting caught up in this shit.” His voice was low and serious. He shouldered his way between them and stepped forward, held his hands up and, turning his head a little to smirk at Trowa, folded them behind his head.  
“Yeah. It was me.”


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I am NOT an expert on BDSM. But I’m trying to be better than 50 Shades so… that’s something, I think.  
A/N #2: Um… fair warning, this is not just porn without plot. So just… keep a weathered eye to the horizon, I guess?  
A/N #3: Updates might be a bit infrequent over the next two weeks. Work is ramping up until about mid-October but I’m going to try to stay on top of everything.

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter Six

Quatre looked surprised when he answered Trowa’s call, amazed, no doubt, that Trowa had taken the time to call him twice in the last three months when he usually only heard from Trowa when he saw him twice a year.  
“Trowa!” Quatre smiled, and he looked tired and stressed and under other circumstances, Trowa might have wondered why, but as things were, he couldn’t be bothered to be curious, let alone to ask.  
“I need your help.”  
Quatre’s smile faltered.  
“Is everything okay? Are you okay? Did something happen at the circus? Were there riots or -”  
“No, there weren’t riots,” Trowa assured him, and part of him appreciated Quatre’s concern. “Duo’s been arrested.”  
Quatre tilted his head.  
“What did he do?”  
Trowa knew he was angry and frustrated and probably spoiling for a fight, but he resented Quatre’s immediate assumption that Duo had done something to earn his arrest - resented the fact that Quatre’s response hadn’t been ‘what can I do?’ instead. Trowa knew that if he had said anyone else - Wufei, Heero or even himself - Quatre would have had a different response.  
“He saved a girl from being raped,” Trowa snapped.  
Quatre frowned.  
“Then why -”  
“Her attacker was the governor’s son. Duo put him in the hospital.”  
Quatre sighed and rubbed one hand over his face.   
“Trowa -”  
“He’s been in custody for two days and they haven’t charged him with anything,” Trowa added quickly.  
It had been frustrating as hell, going down to the detention center and being told to fuck off two days in a row, and it had been reckless, probably even stupid, to revive his old skills and sneak into the detention center, posing as a janitor and then hack into their computers, access the files and see that Duo was being held but hadn’t been charged with anything, his arrest not even forwarded on to the regional data bands. Not even the Preventers knew he had been arrested.  
“Surely they -”  
“They haven’t,” Trowa interrupted again. “You know what happens to people like Duo when they’re arrested and not charged.”  
Quatre’s eyes narrowed.  
“We aren’t at war anymore, Trowa. The governor and the military police are not OZ or the Alliance.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow at that, but he knew antagonising Quatre would, in the end, only make him more uncooperative.  
Quatre sighed.  
“I’ll make some calls, but Trowa - this is… not a good time. There are riots everywhere, Relena and I have had death threats, the government is under a lot of pressure. Publicly stepping in and securing Duo’s release after he attacked the son of a colonial governor -”  
“He defended a child,” Trowa corrected.  
“The media outlets won’t spin it that way and you know it. It’s just going to make things worse.”  
“Then don’t make it public.”  
“You’re asking me to bribe government officials. Trowa, that’s illegal and -”  
“Duo would do this for you without asking any questions.”  
“Duo never thinks to ask questions before jumping head first into hell,” Quatre muttered and he sounded frustrated with Trowa. “He’s my friend too, Trowa, and I care about him. I don’t want him in prison and I respect that he saved someone but you have to appreciate the fact that this situation isn’t ideal.”  
Trowa fought to keep the sneer from his face. No, the situation was most certainly not ideal.  
“I’ll make some calls,” Quatre repeated.   
“Thank you,” Trowa said and he knew it didn’t sound very gracious but the words, even without meaning, were all he could muster.  
He ended the call and scrubbed his face. It had been a long two days.  
In between Trowa’s stakeout of the detention center he had worked out a patrol rotation with Pesha and Nicholae of the circus grounds and the sleep he had lost didn’t matter, especially not when he would have lost it anyway, but Trowa had forgotten what it felt like to be this keyed up all of the time, this full of stress and adrenaline and he thought he had been done with this shit. Had thought his years of being a soldier were behind him.  
When he stepped out of his trailer he stepped into a world of barely organized chaos.  
Not surprisingly, their grounds permits had been revoked and the circus was in the process of hastily packing up to catch the next shuttle out. They still had a few hours, and most of the work had been completed that morning, with everyone working together to take down the tents and start transporting the freight and animals to the ‘port.  
Trowa walked over to Shandor’s trailer, not surprised to find August inside already, both men sitting and drinking coffee.  
Shandor gestured towards the free chair at his small kitchen table and Trowa sat while Shandor poured him a cup of coffee.  
“Any word?” August asked.  
Trowa shook his head and forced a shrug. It was one thing to let Quatre see how frustrated he was, entirely another to make August or Shandor more concerned than they needed to be.  
“Not yet. I called in a favor, though.”  
August nodded, but Shandor was looking at him with narrowed eyes that knew too much, that could read Trowa’s body language far too well. Trowa shook his head, just one small gesture and Shandor looked away, conceding.  
“I’m going to stay behind,” Trowa told August.  
“I thought you might. We can change up the routines to cover for your absence,” August assured him.  
“And you’ll make sure the troupe keeps up the patrols? Make sure everyone stays safe?”  
In some ways it had been an easy decision for Trowa to make, that morning as he packed a duffle bag and tracked down Cathy to tell her he was going to wait for Duo. In other ways, Trowa felt guilty about it, guilty about leaving the troupe to fend for themselves when it felt like he was sending them out into a den of wolves, just waiting to prey on them.  
“We survived without you before,” Shandor said, his voice teasing and sharp. “We can make do again.”  
Trowa glared.  
“The riots -”  
“We survived mobile suit attacks,” August said, his voice mild. “We know how to look to our own. We won’t let anything else happen.”  
Trowa had to accept that, had to believe that they would be safe.  
“I need to grab my bag and then my trailer is ready to go,” Trowa told them. He finished off the coffee in his cup. “I’m going to look in on Sylvan.”  
August nodded.  
“Keep us updated.”  
Trowa inclined his head towards August but he avoided meeting Shandor’s eyes. He didn’t want another lecture or any kind of veiled words about his relationship with Duo, not right now.  
Simza’s trailer was open, and while part of Trowa wished it had been locked - wished it had had a damn barricade in front of it - he knew that was stupid. Inside, Nicholae was fiddling with a tablet, reading about the riots it looked like, judging from the images.  
“Hey.”  
Nicholae looked up at his voice, tensing and then relaxing.   
“Hey.”  
Nicholae didn’t look as though he had been sleeping much either, and Trowa didn’t envy him whatever mental hell he was living through. Family was important, and while the troupe considered everyone to be one large, extended family, the individual family units in the troupe were tightly knit and private and Trowa knew it had to be eating at Nicholae that his sister had been attacked, that it had taken Duo, an outsider, to save her. And now that outsider was in a detention cell.  
“Mind if I talk to her?” Trowa asked, jerked his head in the direction of the closed door to Sylvan’s room.  
Nicholae sighed.  
“You can try,” he muttered.   
Trowa nodded and walked past him towards the door. He knocked.  
“It’s Trowa.”  
There was no answer and Trowa looked over his shoulder to Nicholae, who just shook his head.  
“Duo’s going to want to know how you’re doing,” Trowa said, and it was more than a little manipulative, but he heard the lock on the door turn and he opened it.  
Sylvan regarded him with dark eyes and Trowa had to force his hands to relax, to not fist at his sides in anger.  
He hadn’t seen her yet. That night everything had happened too quickly and yesterday Trowa had spent most of his time at the detention center and today he had split his time between the center and packing up the circus.  
Her face was swollen, her eyes red from crying and one there was bruising on her right cheek, just below her eye and a cut across her lips. She was wearing a sweater and baggy pants and he couldn’t tell if she had any other injuries - couldn’t see anything else until he noticed the bruising around her neck, the dark marks of fingers around her slender throat and he had to swallow back his rage.  
“Are you going to get him out of prison?” Sylvan asked.  
“Yes,” Trowa said, promising both of them. “It might take a few days,” he added when he saw hope in her eyes.   
She looked down.  
“What are they going to do to him?”  
“Nothing,” he assured her, lied to her because Duo had been in this situation before and he hadn’t come away unscathed and back then it hadn’t been personal - he had just been a teenaged terrorist. But now he was a man who had put the governor's son in a hospital and things were already tense enough, with the riots, that the MPs had to be on edge to begin with.  
“You’re lying.”  
“You’re too damn smart,” he muttered.  
“Not smart enough,” she countered, her voice thin and bitter.  
Trowa shook his head.  
“No. What happened had nothing to do with you, Sylvan. It wasn’t your fault. You -”  
“He said I wanted it!” Sylvan interrupted and her eyes were still dark but they were wet and there was no way Trowa was prepared for her tears, for her pain. “He said my dress -”  
“No,” Trowa stopped her. “No.” He repeated and he pulled her into a hug, felt her small fists bunch against his shirt and her wet cheek against his chest. He ran his hand through her hair and it was the only thing he could think to do, the only way he knew how to soothe. “He lied to you,” Trowa said softly. “He lied and you can’t let his lie break you, Sylvan.”  
She sobbed.   
“I couldn’t stop him, Trowa. I couldn’t stop him from hurting me and if Duo - it’s my fault Duo’s in prison and they’re going to kill him, aren’t they?”  
“No, they aren’t.” Trowa held her at arms length so he could look her in the eyes. “They aren’t going to kill him.”  
“But they shot those rioters on X2913. The MPs shot them.”  
Trowa said a silent fuck you to Nicholae and his tablet, but he couldn’t really blame him for keeping up with the news scrolls. It was better that he did. Just unfortunate that Sylvan could connect the dots and knew Duo wasn’t safe.  
“Did Duo ever tell you about the times he had to break out of OZ custody during the war?”  
“No.” She frowned. “He’s going to break out?”  
“He won’t need to,” Trowa assured her but then he smirked, tried to find the humor in this, “unless he wants to. And knowing Duo, he just might.”  
She didn’t look entirely convinced.  
“I’m going to be here for him, Sylvan. He’s going to be fine. None of this is your fault - and Duo would tell you the same thing. Will tell you the same thing,” he added. “I need to ask you for a favor.”  
She frowned again.  
“Me?”  
Trowa nodded.  
“I need you to keep an eye on the cooling unit in the refrigerator we use for the animals’ food.”  
“What?”  
“You’ve watched Duo work enough to know what can go wrong - and I know you helped him work on it last time it went haywire. I just need you to make sure it doesn’t break down again. You know where my tools are?”  
She nodded.  
“Duo showed me.”  
“Good. Can you look after it for me? There’s no one else in the troupe good enough to fix it if something breaks.”  
She looked skeptical, and it was a slight exaggeration, because Besnik was fairly handy, but he still didn’t know the machine, hadn’t helped take it apart and put it back together.  
“Okay,” she agreed.  
“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.” It felt a little trite, but Trowa wasn’t sure what else to say.  
He left the trailer and walked across the grounds to collect his duffel and his tablet and he noticed he’d missed a call, saw the message from Quatre and he scowled when he saw it was text and not a voice or vid message.

The governor’s son has a concussion, three broken ribs and a broken arm. Duo will be charged with assault tomorrow and the governor promised the trial would be quick - they aren’t just going to hold him forever. I’m sending one of my lawyers to the colony. We’ll try to get the lightest sentence. I’ll keep you updated.

-o-  
Quatre had looked surprised but happy when Trowa called him.  
Wufei, on the other hand, just looked aggravated.  
Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that it was two in the morning where Wufei was stationed and Trowa had been spamming him with calls on his personal line for the last half hour, knowing that eventually he would wake up.  
Wufei looked sleep tousled and Trowa realized he had never seen him like that, had never seen his hair loose let alone tangled.  
“It’s two in the morning, Barton, and I’ve just come off duty after a four day escort mission so unless Yuy is attempting to self-destruct again -”  
“Duo’s been arrested.”  
Wufei’s eyes instantly narrowed and he still looked aggravated but significantly more awake.  
“When?”  
“Three days ago.”  
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”  
Trowa glared.  
“I tried Quatre first.”  
Wufei snorted.  
“Quatre’s running for regional administrator of the L4 sector, he can’t step in to get Duo out of prison.”  
That was news to Trowa, and he should probably pay more attention to those emails Relena sent out with updates on their family. Likely one of them had mentioned something along those lines.  
“What happened?”  
Trowa briefly related the events of the last few days, including the arrival of Quatre’s lawyer that morning and his report after being allowed to speak to Duo. He had told Trowa that he was fine, had clearly resisted arrest, but wasn’t being treated that harshly.  
Wufei sneered at that last part, and Trowa appreciated the fact that someone else cared.  
“Message me whatever intel you have - I need names and times. I’ll make a few calls and get the next shuttle out.”  
Trowa frowned.  
“Can’t you just tell them to release him?”  
“Yes, how silly of me to have forgotten to use my magic wand to fix this.”  
“You clearly aren’t going to be using your charm to get him released.”  
“It’s a complicated situation, Trowa. The riots -”  
“Screw the riots. Duo would have already tried to break any of us out of prison if our positions were reversed.”  
Wufei glared.  
“Trowa. I care about him too. We will get him out. But there are obstacles I need to get around to make sure this doesn’t make things worse. Send me the intel. I will be there soon.”  
Trowa had almost called Heero instead, but while he resented Wufei’s inability to present an immediate solution, it was clear Wufei was going to help and he would have to settle for that.  
Of course, settling meant tracking down Quatre’s lawyer and getting all of his notes, scanning them and sending them to Wufei along with the names of all of the MPs Trowa remembered from that night and all of the ones he had met since then, all of the ones who politely told him to catch the next shuttle off colony and stop bothering them or he would find himself in a cell next to his colonist friend.  
It was another day before Wufei arrived, and when Trowa met him at the ‘port he was surprised to see him in civilian clothes, canvas pants and a sweater that made him look more like a dock worker than a Preventer.  
Wufei noticed Trowa’s attention to his clothes.  
“I told you things were complicated,” Wufei said. He had a duffle bag on one shoulder that Trowa hoped held his neatly pressed Preventers uniform. Trowa wasn’t sure how a complicated situation necessitated Wufei showing up looking like a powerless colonist instead of a decorated Preventer agent.  
“Give me the update,” Wufei said as he and Trowa walked away from the ‘port and towards the detention center.  
“The lawyer says they are waiting a few more days, until the son is off his pain meds so he can testify.”  
Wufei rolled his eyes.  
“Of course they are,” he muttered and then he sighed. “I’ll go by the center and talk to Duo. We need to get this resolved as quickly as possible.”  
Trowa certainly agreed with that, but something about Wufei’s tone made it clear Duo wasn’t his main concern for a quick resolution.  
“If this leaks to the public - it’s going to set off more riots,” Wufei said and Trowa hadn’t even considered that.  
“It’s just one incident.”  
“One incident when a former Gundam Pilot attacked the son of a colonial governor who has very publicly stated that these riots are being organized by terrorists who want to bring down the government and the only way to stop them is with military force.”  
When Wufei put it like that Trowa had to agree with him. Duo would become a martyr to these people - he could imagine that sympathetic, soulful eyed man from the vid waxing poetic about Duo defending the helpless colonists and knew it would make things worse.  
Trowa took Wufei to the cheap hotel room he had rented, expecting Wufei to change into his uniform, but Wufei just stored his bag, pulled out a few documents, and rolled his eyes when Trowa refused to stay and wait for him to come back.  
He did have to wait outside of the center, since he knew the threats to arrest him were becoming less idle each time they were delivered, and he took a seat at a cafe across the street from the center, ordered a coffee and felt ridiculously useless for the next two hours.  
When Wufei came out of the center Trowa walked over to meet him, and the tense set of Wufei’s shoulders and the scowl on his face were about as comforting as Quatre’s assurances that his lawyer would press for the lightest possible sentence.  
“What?” He asked.  
“Not here,” Wufei muttered. “Back at the room.”  
So Trowa waited twenty minutes, walked in silence with Wufei while he imagined all of the ways this was about to get so much worse, and started to mentally review the layout of the center, started to plan how he could break in again and try to -  
“The son talked to a reporter,” Wufei said once the door to the hotel room was closed.  
Trowa frowned.  
“So?”  
“So this is going to be all over the scrolls by tonight - tomorrow at the latest.”  
“Then we need to get him out before this becomes an issue.”  
Wufei scrubbed at his face.  
“We can’t. There can’t be a news scroll of Duo imprisoned for assaulting the governor’s son and then his immediate release because of Preventer intervention.”  
“Why the hell not?”  
“Because it’s complicated,” Wufei snapped. “It’s not as easy as snapping my fingers and getting my friend out of prison! You have no idea just how dangerous everything is right now and one wrong move is going to lead to another war, Trowa!”  
“Duo would -”  
“Duo knows. Duo knows how much is at stake and he knows, Trowa. He knows a hell of a lot better than you do that he’s fucked and he’s going to sit tight and wait for this to blow over and so are we.”  
Trowa glared at Wufei, furious at being spoken to like an idiot, like an outsider - like a civilian.   
“What if it doesn’t blow over? If it’s on the scrolls -”  
“If it doesn’t blow over then we’re all fucked,” Wufei said. “Either he gets sentenced to hard labor on Mars and riots break out or riots break out and he’s released and the government is just that much closer to falling. Either way, we’re fucked.”  
“How long has this been building, Wufei?” Trowa had to ask.  
Wufei sighed and sat down on the single bed in the room.  
“You probably know that just as well as I do. You travel the colonies, you’ve seen what the depression has done.”  
“Who released that vid?”  
It had been replayed constantly over the past few weeks, the brown eyed man a constant fixture and Trowa had started to see men and women in black shirts and red bandanas in the crowds at the circus.  
“They call themselves the Brotherhood.”  
“Original.”  
Wufei shrugged.  
“It fits their message - banding together, using the force of numbers to topple the few, the masters.”  
“Who was on the vid?”  
“His name is Micah Vaughn.”  
“Their leader?”  
Wufei shook his head in the negative.  
“Just another soldier. He fought against Oz during the last war - some pathetic militia unit from L3. They picked him as their public face, but he’s not that high up the ladder.”  
Wufei spoke about the Brotherhood as if he was very familiar with it.  
“Why haven’t you stopped them yet?” Trowa had to ask.  
“Because it’s not that easy. We can’t just arrest four million people, Trowa.”  
Trowa stared.  
“What?”  
“They have cells all over the colonies - they even have some on Earth and our last report from Zechs indicated there were some blackshirts on Mars too.”  
“Wufei - four million can start a war.” They sure as hell couldn’t win one, but that was enough to seriously disrupt the government, to kill, to destroy the fragile Earthsphere peace.  
“The war’s already started, Trowa,” Wufei snapped and then he sighed. “I need to sleep. I was too busy giving Une briefings on the shuttle flight out to sleep. Wake me up in six hours - or sooner if the story breaks on the scrolls.”  
Trowa glared at Wufei as he undressed, completely ignoring Trowa, and climbed into the bed.  
Angry and impotent, Trowa left the hotel room and went back to his cafe, ordered another coffee and stared at the news scroll on the large monitor just inside the cafe.

-o-  
The story broke that night, and two days later crowds had already started to gather in front of the detention center, protestors against colonial government violence and MPs reacting aggressively and arresting more than a few protestors just making the story even more popular on the scrolls.  
Each day Wufei went back to the center, dressed as a civilian, and Trowa continued his utterly useless existence watching the news scrolls and each day the situation continued to deteriorate.  
By the fifth day of protests there were black shirts in the crowd, and on the seventh day there was a new vid, starring none other than Micah Vaughn, and Wufei and Trowa were sitting at the cafe together eating their evening meal when it aired for the first time.  
“Brothers and sisters - one of our own fights against the masters who enslave us and he stands alone, he stands strong and he stands in prison. Duo Maxwell has spent his life fighting for the colonies, defending his brothers and sisters and today he does so without a Gundam, without the weapons the Terrans used against us for so long. Today he fights injustice with his hands alone and today he needs us, his brothers and sisters, to fight alongside him.”  
Vaughn didn’t need to go into detail about Duo’s arrest, the assault, the girl he had saved - the news scrolls had covered all of it before and Trowa was only grateful for the fact that none of the media outlets had managed to track down the circus yet.   
“Will you allow Duo Maxwell to once again suffer the brutality of the Terran government and hide behind him? Or will you stand with him and fight to bring down this government that would steal the innocence of a child?”  
There were murmurs from the other cafe patrons, and Trowa knew Wufei’s dark look mirrored his own.  
This was bad. Very, very bad.

-o-  
X1256 had been immune to the recent riots. The relative prosperity of the L1 sector, even during the depression, and the strength of the governor on the colony had meant that the handful of protests that could have turned into riots had quickly been squashed.   
But things were different now, and the vandalized businesses, the estate homes set ablaze, the MPs attacked all created the frenzied atmosphere of rage that had permeated the other colonies for months now and the two days after the vid aired left Trowa waking up in the middle of the night to the sounds of gunfire and explosions and he felt like he was back in the war, could taste his own heartbeat and the rush of fear and jumpy reflexes that made him feel nauseated and edgy.  
Things weren’t blowing over, and Quatre’s lawyer was utterly useless and Trowa had to concede that Wufei could not, it seemed, magically fix this.  
So on the third night he left the hotel room after Wufei had fallen asleep and he made his way to the posh residential sector of X1256 and he snuck into the governor’s mansion and he found his son, the shit head who had tried to rape Sylvan, and he woke him up with a knife to his dick and a hand over his mouth.  
“Tomorrow morning you will go to the detention center and you will tell them that it wasn’t Duo. You were mistaken, and he wasn’t the one who attacked you when you tried to rape a child.”  
He tried to bite Trowa, and if he wasn’t worthless scum Trowa might have admired the guts that took, but instead he cut into his scrotum, not deeply, but he felt the skin give way, the fabric of his sleep pants tear and the man gave a terrified wail that Trowa suffocated with his hand.  
“It took me twenty minutes to sneak in here and get past your father’s guards. I can do it again - and I will, if there isn’t a news scroll on the air by noon tomorrow stating that you identified the wrong man. Do you understand me?”  
The man nodded frantically and Trowa pulled the knife away from his groin and delivered a swift, brutal punch to his skull.  
A small part of him wondered if it would lead to another concussion, or exacerbate whatever lingering trauma there might be from Duo’s attack. A small part of him hoped he had a brain bleed and was found dead the next morning - it would, undoubtedly make everything worse if that did happen.   
It was easy enough to slip back out of the mansion, to navigate through the darkened streets and avoid the MPs enforcing the curfew that seemed to do little to stop the vandalism and the rioters.  
It was easy enough to slip back into the hotel bed, to lie awake and count his breaths until his heart rate was normal again.  
“Do I want to know?”  
Wufei’s voice startled him in the darkness.  
“No,” Trowa told him honestly.  
Silence stretched between them.  
“Thank you,” Wufei said at last.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I am NOT an expert on BDSM. But I’m trying to be better than 50 Shades so… that’s something, I think.  
A/N #2: Um… fair warning, this is not just porn without plot. So just… keep a weathered eye to the horizon, I guess?  
A/N #3: Updates might be a bit infrequent over the next two weeks. Work is ramping up until about mid-October but I’m going to try to stay on top of everything.

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter Seven

 

It would have been hilarious if everything wasn’t so fucked up.  
Duo lauded as some kind of colonist folk-hero who had defied the government, had fought for justice and after two weeks of detention he was being released and the crowd gathered outside of the detention center rivaled that for visiting dignitaries.   
During the war, when Duo had been captured and his Gundam destroyed the colonists had praised that - had cheered for the destruction of the symbol of war that Deathscythe had become and had turned their backs on Duo, the scrappy orphaned terrorist who had chosen to fight for them. Trowa had always wondered what Duo thought of that, what had gone through his mind when he realized that the very people he had been willing to die for had wanted his death.  
But that had been before, back when wars were fought by boys in giant machines of death.  
Trowa waited for Duo’s release at his cafe, across the street from the detention center, out of the way and able to observe without interference, and was reminded of the time Quatre and Relena came to X2675 right after their marriage, had arranged their visit to coincide with the circus and Trowa had met them at the ‘port and the crowd had been just as large, just as full of idol worship.  
Of course, their crowd hadn’t had men and women wearing black shirts and red bandanas. Their crowd hadn’t been shouting death threats to the police guarding the detention center.  
And their crowd hadn’t been waiting for Duo.  
Eventually Duo was led out, Wufei still in plainclothes at his side, and Trowa couldn’t see any obvious injuries on his face.  
The crowd gave a wild cheer and Duo greeted them with raised hands, but the look on his face was more subdued than triumphant.  
Some of the crowd started chanting his name, demanding he speak, but Duo waved them away.   
“This isn’t the time or the place,” Duo called out to them, his voice just carrying. He glanced at the guards just barely holding back the crowd. “Go home, to your families. See to their safety tonight, and tomorrow will bring a new day.”  
His words were strange. Trowa thought it was entirely out of character for Duo to address the crowd at all - he routinely avoided any kind of public spectacles and had shied away from the handful of opportunities to speak at the various memorial events over the years.   
But his words clearly meant something to the crowd. The blackshirts started to disperse, gathered some of the others around them and led them away and as the crowd drifted away Wufei and Duo crossed the street to join Trowa at the cafe.  
Up close, Duo looked exhausted, the skin under his eyes dark and Trowa could clearly see a cut on his temple, just below his hairline, and he could imagine the kind of blow that would have delivered such a wound, could all too easily imagine how much the scalp wound would have bled.  
Duo offered his a soft, rueful smirk and Trowa quickly shoved down his emotions at that expression. Duo had been right about one thing - this wasn’t the time or the place.  
“I’ve got your gear,” Trowa said, feeling the need to say something.  
Duo nodded.  
“Thanks.”  
Wufei rolled his eyes.  
“We should go back to the room - there’s no need to parade you around on the street with tensions still so high.”  
Trowa let Wufei and Duo walk a little ahead of him, falling back a few paces to watch their backs and he was glad he had done so, otherwise he wouldn’t have seen the two blackshirts or the MPs trailing behind them.  
Duo looked over his shoulder at him, once, and Trowa caught his eye and gestured to the men following them. Duo’s lips compressed into a tense line and he leaned in close to Wufei, whispered something in his ear, and Wufei put one hand on Duo’s arm and dragged him into a shop.  
Trowa didn’t follow, and neither did their tails, clearly anticipating that Wufei and Duo would come back out.  
After ten minutes, Trowa crossed the street and doubled back through a few alleys until he was confident that he lost the blackshirts, who had decided to pursue him instead.  
By the time he made it back to the hotel, Duo was in the shower and Wufei was sitting at his computer, tapping away, and Trowa imagined he was filling out some kind of report for Une, some kind of assurance that the crisis had been averted, for now.  
“I’m taking the next shuttle back to Earth,” Wufei spoke up after a few minutes of Trowa sitting on the bed and feeling restless.  
Trowa nodded. He had expected as much - there wasn’t anything left for Wufei to do here, not if those men and women took Duo’s advice and went home.  
Wufei was giving him a strange look, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t think he should.  
“What?” Trowa finally prompted, but Wufei shook his head.  
“Be careful. Things could have turned out much worse, but this… this isn’t going to fix anything.”  
Trowa nodded.  
“I know.”  
Wufei rolled his eyes, and Trowa abruptly realized that he had seen Wufei roll his eyes more in the last two weeks than he had in the last eight years. He wondered at that. It was a gesture he had always identified with Duo, not with the too serious Wufei.  
“You knowing and you acting aren’t necessarily the same thing.”  
“What the hell does that mean?”  
“Oh, I don’t know. I just seem to recall a few times over the years when you knew situations might get you killed but went into them anyway.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“I lived, didn’t I?”  
“You’re a civilian now, Trowa. The Earthsphere has changed since you stopped killing people.”  
Trowa wasn’t entirely sure how to take that.  
Wufei sighed.  
“I know you know. But there isn’t much that Heero or I can do, to protect you - or the Circus.”  
On one hand, Trowa found himself absurdly touched that Wufei cared. On the other, however, he didn’t appreciate once again being made to feel irrelevant.   
“What about Duo?”  
Wufei frowned.  
“What about him?”  
“Can you and Heero protect him?”  
Wufei snorted.  
“No. Yuy’s idea of protecting Duo is to take away his pilot’s license and ground him on Earth - and I think we all know how well that would go over.”  
“And your idea?” Duo asked.  
Trowa looked up to see him standing in the doorway to the bathroom, naked except for the towel around his waist, his arms crossed over his chest and a troubled expression on his face.  
Wufei sighed and closed his computer.  
“You already told me to go fuck myself when I told you my idea,” Wufei muttered.  
Duo’s lips twitched.  
“That I did.”  
Wufei stood up and gave Duo an appraising look, his eyes lingering on the bruises on Duo’s sides and arms.  
“Do you need medical attention?”  
Duo shook his head.  
“Nah. Nothing broken.” He ran a hand over his smooth jaw. “I used the razor in there.”  
“Mine,” Trowa told him and Duo nodded.  
“Hope you don’t mind.”  
Trowa didn’t. The two weeks worth of stubble on Duo’s face had been an interesting look, had certainly made him appear to be the scroungy spacer that he really was, but Trowa appreciated Duo’s face clean shaven more, even if it did reveal a bruise along his jaw.  
“At least do a better job checking in,” Wufei muttered. “Yuy’s going to be a nutcase until all of this dies down.”  
Duo nodded.  
“I’ll try.”  
Wufei looked like he wanted to say something else, but Duo’s gaze flicked over to Trowa and Wufei held his tongue. Instead, he packed up the last of his gear and pulled on a jacket.  
“Thanks for the save, ‘Fei,” Duo spoke up.  
“No thanks are necessary, Duo,” Wufei said and his voice was a little gruff. He glanced towards Trowa again and his lips turned upwards slightly. “And I didn’t even do anything, in the end.”  
Duo arched an eyebrow at Trowa, who merely shrugged.  
It had been a gamble, tracking down the governor’s son, but in the end, when Wufei and Trowa sat in the cafe and watched his interview with a media outlet, watched him insist that he had identified the wrong man and that Duo Maxwell was innocent, it had been worth it.  
“I’m not sure when I will see you again,” Wufei continued. “I don’t imagine Quatre will be hosting a gathering anytime soon with the way things are playing out. It wouldn’t be safe.”  
Duo nodded.  
“Next time you speak to him, tell him thanks for the lawyer.”  
Trowa snorted. The lawyer had been utterly useless.  
“It’s the thought that counts,” Duo said, as if reading Trowa’s mind.  
“I will,” Wufei spoke up before Trowa could counter that. He looked at Trowa. “Take care.”  
“You as well,” Trowa said, and he meant it. Whatever risks Trowa might be facing, he knew they were amplified for Wufei.  
The Preventer nodded, shook his head at Duo, and then left.  
Trowa locked the door behind him.  
He thought it was perhaps ungrateful to be relieved that Wufei was gone, that he was alone with Duo and had the chance to see just what kind of damage had been done to him.  
But when he turned back to Duo, the other man was leaning against the bathroom door frame, his arms still crossed, and a calculating expression on his face.  
“You’re not going to let me get dressed until you see the rest of me, are you?” Duo guessed.  
“No.”  
Duo sighed.  
“Trowa, it’s not -”  
“You could have died.”  
Duo’s jaw locked.  
“Yeah,” he agreed, and the very fact that he acknowledged it - that he didn’t try to play it off - drove something cold and hard into Trowa’s gut.   
“Let me see you.”  
Duo held his gaze for a long, tense moment, but then he tugged his towel free, letting it fall to the ground.  
Before Trowa could move, however, Duo knelt down on the ground and put his hands behind his head.  
Trowa arched an eyebrow at that. At Duo’s clear attempt to distract him.  
Then again, as Trowa looked over Duo’s body, it really did afford him a clear view of his injuries.   
In addition to the bruising around his sides and arms there were bruises along his thighs and a very dark bruise on his left hip, as though he had been slammed against something.  
Trowa walked around to look at his back, where a few of the bruises wrapped around from the front.  
There was a cut high on Duo’s back, near the base of his neck, scabbed over but just barely.  
Trowa ran his finger over the skin just under the cut, following the line of it to Duo’s braid and he frowned. The hair was wet and heavy but he didn’t think he was imaging the slightly uneven shape.  
“They cut your hair.”  
“They tried to,” Duo corrected, and his fingers stretched down to Trowa’s, tangling together in his hair. “They got some of it before realizing that was a really fucking bad idea.”  
Trowa had to wonder if they had had any other bad ideas.  
“What else did they try to do?”  
Duo snorted.  
“The usual. Beat the shit out of me, make sure I understood that I’m just colony trash not fit to wipe their glorious Terran boots.”  
“Did they rape you?” Trowa asked, bluntly, because he knew Duo would dance around the question if he could.  
“No,” Duo said after a too long pause.  
“They tried.”  
“They realized that was also a really fucking bad idea.”  
Trowa stared at his back, stared at the bumps of his spine and followed that line down to the mask tattoo and it felt as though it was mocking him, in that moment. That symbol, that claim of his on Duo.   
“You can get dressed,” he sighed and stepped away.   
He hadn’t been able to keep Duo safe, but he had saved him, in the end, and that was something.”  
“Trowa. Please.”  
He turned and saw that Duo was still kneeling. Still had his hands behind his head and was looking at Trowa with wide, pleading eyes.  
“You said there were other ways, if I wasn’t in the condition to be bent over your knee.”  
Trowa swallowed hard. There certainly were. There were so very, very many ways he could discipline Duo that didn’t involve adding more bruises to his body, but in that moment Trowa did not trust himself to touch Duo.  
The last few weeks had been too intense, his fear for Duo’s safety too consuming, and now that he had Duo here, whole and in the flesh, he didn’t trust himself to touch him. It would be too easy to let his fear and his anger control his actions, but even if Trowa could master those emotions, his desire for Duo, his need to feel his skin and his body, were too great as well. Trowa was barely able to maintain his own-self control. He doubted his ability to discipline Duo very well.  
“Please. I want - I need this. I need you.”  
Trowa held his gaze and Duo did look needy, his cheeks flushed, clearly unsure about having to beg Trowa for his attention.  
But Trowa could believe him could believe that Duo did actually need this after the last two weeks, after knowing how easily things could have turned out differently.  
“Get the first aid kit from the bathroom,” Trowa instructed him. Duo clearly knew where it was - had used some of the antibacterial ointment on the cuts on his back and his forehead.  
Duo rose, retrieved the kit and came back out of the bathroom and placed the kit in front of himself before returning to his position.  
Trowa sat down on the bed, several feet away, and watched Duo for a few minutes. Watched his cock harden and he wondered what Duo was thinking, what he was anticipating.  
“What did they do when they tried to rape you?”  
Duo scowled. It was clear he had thought that line of questioning dead.  
“They stripped me down. Tried to fuck me but nothing happened.”  
“Did they penetrate you?”  
Duo shook his head.  
“Bastard tried to just shove his dick in my ass but his buddies weren’t too keen on holding me down for him.”  
“I don’t have any lube, you’ll have to use the antibac cream.”  
Duo arched an eyebrow.  
“For what?”  
“To finger yourself.”  
Duo’s face turned red.  
“Have you tried to? Since I did it to you?”  
Duo nodded once.  
“And? Did you like it?”  
“Yes. I liked it a lot.”  
“Show me.”  
Duo dropped his hands and opened the kit.  
Trowa watched him root around for the lube before closing the kit back up and then spreading some on the fingers of his left hand.  
He reached behind himself, arching his back forward. His breath caught for a moment, and Trowa could just barely see Duo slide one finger into himself, taking a moment to adjust before he started to slowly, shallowly thrust it in and out.  
“Would you like to touch your cock too?” Trowa asked, noticing the way Duo’s right hand was clenched into a fist.  
“Yes, please.”  
“Go ahead.”  
Duo squeezed more of the antibac on his right fingers and smeared it over his hard cock before forming a loose fist and stroking himself.  
“Use a second finger as well,” Trowa instructed after watching Duo for a few minutes, listening to his shallow breathing and watching his eyes fall closed. “And look at me,” he added.  
Duo’s eyes snapped open and met his.  
“How does it feel?” He asked once Duo had added a second finger, once he was pumping his fingers in and out of his own body and rocking forward, into his own hand around his cock as well.  
“I wish you were the one doing it,” Duo gasped.  
“That does not answer my question, Duo. I asked you how it feels, not what you would prefer. And I am the one doing this, Duo. I am the one allowing you to touch yourself. I’m the one allowing you to finger your own ass and you should be grateful for that much. I’ve already told you that I refuse to spoil my pets. If you want my fingers to be inside of you then you had better behave, Duo. You had better accept my disciple and be grateful for my attention or you will have nothing else from me.”  
Duo had stopped during Trowa’s beratement.  
“Did I tell you to stop fucking yourself?”  
“No.”  
“Then why did you stop?”  
“Sorry.”  
Duo started to stroke his cock again, started to move his fingers again and Trowa watched him with critical eyes, waiting for Duo to start working himself towards orgasm.  
“How does it feel?” He asked again.  
“Good,” Duo panted, his slightly frantic rhythm corroborating the statement. “Really good,” he added. “Trowa - can I come?”  
“No.”  
Duo’s eyes widened.  
“Please, Trowa. I’m close.”  
“I said no.”  
Duo’s hands started to slow.  
“I did not tell you to stop, Duo.”  
Duo made a frustrated sound.  
“I’m too close. I can’t -”  
“Duo. Are you disobeying me?”  
“No,” Duo growled and continued to torment himself, though it was clear the moment of anger had given him enough time to control himself and not climax.  
Soon enough, however, he was back at the same precipice.  
“Please, Trowa. Please let me come.”  
“No,” Trowa said again.  
“Please, Tro. I’m so close. I want -”  
“I said no, Duo.”  
“Damnit, Trowa, please. Just let me come.”  
“Stop.”  
Duo’s hands instantly stilled at Trowa’s tone.   
“Stand up.”  
Duo did so hesitantly.  
“Go stand in the corner and face the wall.”  
“What?”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow and glanced towards the corner of the room that was opposite the door and the bed.  
Duo followed his gaze.  
“Do not make me repeat myself yet again, Duo.”  
Duo scowled but followed Trowa’s directions, walking over to the corner and standing so that he was facing it.  
“I want you to think about just why you chose to disappoint me, Duo.”  
“You want me to stand here in the corner while you just sit there and watch me?”  
“No. I’m not staying here. There are other things I can be doing with my time.”  
Duo turned to look at Trowa, an angry, incredulous expression on his face.  
“Face the wall. I do not need my time wasted, Duo. There are so many other things I could be doing right now.”  
Duo swallowed hard and his expression lost its anger and resentment as Trowa’s words struck home. He turned back to the wall.  
“Think about why you chose to disappoint me, Duo,” Trowa said again, choosing his emphasis carefully.  
He saw Duo nod jerkily and for a moment he did sit there and watch him, for a moment, just long enough to wage an internal battle over whether or not he was doing the right thing.  
He had baited Duo into this, had known he would argue and fight back and Trowa had known he would finally have to punish him.  
He had also known that punishing Duo wouldn’t be easy, not on either one of them, and certainly not after the anxiety of the last two weeks.  
But, in the long run, it needed to be done.  
Trowa stood up and pulled on his jacket before leaving the room, locking the door after himself.

-o-  
Trowa vividly remembered the first time Shandor had punished him. He would likely never forget it.  
It had been the most humiliating experience of his life, more humiliating than his failed self-destruct attempt, more humiliating than Quatre blushing and shaking his head when Trowa had tried to kiss him.  
Trowa had been sucking Shandor’s cock, had refused to release him and sit back when Shandor told him to because he had known Shandor was close to orgasm and at that point in their relationship Shandor had yet to climax when they were together, had yet to allow Trowa to get him off and Trowa had been frustrated and needy and Shandor had punished him swiftly.  
Shandor had retrieved a brick from his bedroom, a single red clay brick that looked ancient and out of place and he had made Trowa stand on it, had made him balance on the long, narrow edge while wearing his clown mask and having to balance a book on his head, as though he was just an amusement, just a toy for Shandor to play with and make perform tricks. It had made Trowa feel insignificant and the hour that Shandor had sat in front of him, his back to Trowa while he read another book, had been torture of a kind Trowa had not yet experienced.  
Not only had Shandor humiliated him, but Shandor hadn’t even looked at him - hadn’t even watched his humiliation. He had made it perfectly clear that Trowa was of no interest to him if he didn’t behave, and Shandor had only ever had to punish him twice after that.  
Trowa tried to aim for that same hour mark that Shandor had used for him, and he was productive with his time away from Duo. He called Cathy to let her know that Duo was safe and free, he sent a message to Wufei thanking him again for his help, he sat in his cafe and watched the news scrolls showing Duo’s release and speculating on the lack of activity by the protestors afterwards. And he stopped by a pharmacy and purchased lube and condoms.  
When he did go back to the hotel room he found Duo still standing in his corner, saw his shoulders tense when the door opened.  
“Trowa?”  
If they had been somewhere else, if they had been anyone else, Trowa wouldn’t have answered, but all things considered - neither of them wanted to be in a room with an unidentified person.  
“Yes.”  
Duo didn’t turn, didn’t even relax all that much.  
Trowa locked the door and shrugged off his jacket.  
“You said you needed this, Duo. By this, I assume you meant my discipline.”  
“Yes,” Duo confirmed.  
“This is always your choice, Duo. I will always be here, as your friend, regardless of whatever else is between us. We only have this if you choose it.”  
“I know.” Duo’s voice sounded uneven.  
“And tonight - did you choose to have me discipline you?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then why did you choose to disappoint me?”  
Duo’s head hung, just a little.  
“Answer me.”  
“I wanted to see what you would do.”  
“And? Are you satisfied?”  
“No,” Duo ground out.  
“No?”  
“I - I didn’t think you would leave me.”  
Trowa swallowed hard at Duo’s tone.  
“Turn around.”  
Duo did so and Trowa could see that his face was red.  
Trowa sat down on the edge of the bed and spread his legs.  
“Come here.”  
He indicated the space between his legs and Duo walked over, knelt and folded his hands behind his head, the model of obedience.  
Trowa threaded his fingers through Duo’s now dry hair, tugging on the roots gently, careful to stay away from the cut.  
“I’m not going to leave you, Duo,” he assured him.   
The expression on Duo’s face made Trowa smirk.  
“I’m not going to allow you to act like a greedy, spoiled brat, though,” he continued. “And I will not waste my time on that kind of behavior. But I will always come back for you, Duo.”  
“Thank you.”  
They had moved on from their current situation, from Duo’s punishment, and it was clear Duo knew exactly what Trowa was really telling him, really confessing.  
Duo turned his head slightly, pressed his lips against Trowa’s hand. Trowa thumb his finger over Duo’s lips.  
“I enjoy discipling you, Duo, because we both need it and we both want it. But neither of us wants me to punish you and neither of us enjoys it. Remember that the next time you decide to disobey or disappoint me.”  
“I will.”  
“Shall we continue your discipline?”  
“Yes, please.”  
Trowa smiled slightly. He shifted back on the bed and gestured for Duo to climb onto his lap.  
Duo did so and Trowa gave him the lube he had purchased.  
“Try this instead.”  
Duo smirked.  
“Thanks.”  
Trowa let him ease back into it, let him slowly start to finger himself and work his cock back up to a full erection before he kissed Duo.  
It caught Duo by surprise for a moment, but then he kissed Trowa back, opening his mouth and sucking on Trowa’s tongue and lips and they were both short of breath and Trowa had to hold Duo upright with his hands on his shoulders, Duo already a little off balance as he fingered himself.  
When Trowa pulled away Duo moaned, and then gasped when Trowa licked and bit his pulse point.  
“God, Trowa, that feels so good.”  
Trowa took Duo’s left nipple between his fingers and rolled it before pinching down and Duo cried out.  
“Fuck. Yes. I like that.”  
Trowa repeated the gesture with Duo’s other nipple but kissed him again while doing so, swallowing Duo’s cry.  
“Please, please Trowa, please can I come?” Duo’s eyes were wide and bright.  
“You can beg more than that, Duo, if it’s something you really want.”  
“Oh, please, Tro. Please let me come. Let me come for you. Please, please, please.”  
“Do you need to come for me, Duo? Or do you just want to?”  
Duo made a strangled sound as he continued to erratically stroke and finger himself.  
“Yes.”  
“Yes what?”  
“Yes, I need to. I need to come for you. I need to come with you.”  
“Then come for me, Duo.”  
Duo gave a hard tug on his cock and then he game, groaning and shuddering as he found his release.  
“Oh fuck. Thank you.” He sat back on his heels, breathing hard.  
Trowa looked down, at the white staining the front of his shirt. He swiped his thumb over Duo’s semen and then pressed it to Duo’s lips, smiling when he sucked on Trowa’s thumb, cleaning it completely before Trowa replaced his thumb with his mouth.  
“Is there anything else you need, Duo?”  
“You.”  
“You have me, Duo.”  
Duo swallowed hard.  
“Please, Trowa. I want - I need you to fuck me,” he corrected himself.  
Trowa had hoped he would say that, and even though he had bought condoms in the event it was what Duo wanted, he hadn’t been sure tonight would go quite like this.  
Trowa ran his right hand down Duo’s back, down to his ass and ran his fingers around Duo’s slick anus.   
Duo rocked forward.  
“Please, Tro.”  
“I like when you call me Tro,” Trowa admitted.  
Duo smirked.  
“Do you like it enough to reward me?”  
Trowa snorted.  
“Don’t be so cheeky.”  
“Hey, I’ve been in prison for the last two weeks.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“And I should reward you for that?” He asked as he slipped one finger inside of Duo.  
Duo moaned.  
“Better than punishing me,” he muttered.  
“But if I reward you, you’re just going to go and get yourself arrested again,” Trowa pointed out, caressing Duo’s prostate. “I can’t exactly encourage that kind of behavior.”  
“Please,” Duo groaned. “I won’t get myself arrested again.”  
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Trowa warned him, stilling his finger, joking abandoned.  
Duo took in his serious gaze.  
“I won’t be reckless,” Duo said, perhaps assuring both of them, and it wasn’t much of an assurance, but Trowa knew it was the best he was going to get.  
“Sit on the bed,” Trowa said, turning away from the subject.  
Duo shifted from his lap and knelt on the bed, hands drifting up to his head before Trowa shook his head and Duo left them down at his sides.  
Trowa put the lube and the condoms from his pocket on the nightstand before stripping out of his clothes.  
Duo’s eyes were hungry as they roved over his body, and he licked his lips at the sight of Trowa’s erect cock when he pulled off his pants and it sent a thrill of anticipation through Trowa.  
They had both waited for this for quite some time.  
“Can I touch you?” Duo asked, gaze riveted to Trowa’s cock. “Please?” He added quickly.  
Trowa smirked at that.  
“You may.”  
Duo crawled over to the edge of the bed and surprised Trowa by not going straight for his cock. Instead, he pressed his lips against Trowa’s chest, kissing and licking his nipples and then left a trail of open mouthed kisses down his abdomen to his groin before licking Trowa’s cock.  
“That feels very nice, Duo,” Trowa said. He ran his fingers through Duo’s hair, lingering on the spot where he could now see and feel the missing strands of his braid.  
He let Duo lick and suck his cock for a few minutes, allowed himself to give a few shallow thrusts that had Duo happily humming and gripping his ass tightly, but then Trowa eased him back.  
He joined Duo on the bed and pulled him close, wrapping his legs around Duo and rolling Duo above him while they kissed.  
Duo was hard again, his cock trapped against Trowa’s, and Trowa felt Duo’s hips rotate as he tried to move against him.  
Trowa smiled against Duo’s mouth but allowed him the movement while he reached for the lube and spread some on his fingers.  
“Sit up,” he instructed Duo when he pulled away from their kiss.  
Duo did so, straddling Trowa’s hips and Trowa loved the sight of Duo above him, of his cock erect and glistening with precum, of his neck arched and head thrown back while Trowa fingered him.  
“Mhm - please, Tro, please.”  
“Get a condom.”  
Duo reached over and grabbed one, pulling it open and then hesitating.  
“Go ahead.”  
Duo smirked and rolled it over Trowa’s cock, smoothing it down and then stroking him a few times.  
Trowa pulled him down for another kiss, holding Duo down until his smirk was gone and he was once again squirming against Trowa, pushing his ass back against his fingers and thrusting his cock against Trowa’s.  
Trowa spread some of the lube on his cock and Duo pulled back to watch, sitting back up on his heels.  
Trowa hesitated for a moment. As much as he wanted to watch Duo impale himself on his cock, Trowa strongly suspected that Duo wouldn’t take it slowly, wouldn’t wait for the initial penetration to ease, and he didn’t want that, not for this first time.  
“On your back.”  
Duo complied without hesitation and Trowa knelt between his legs, propping Duo’s left leg up against his chest, and he situated the head of his cock at Duo’s entrance.  
Slowly, he pressed forward, pushing past the tight ring until just the head was inside Duo.  
Duo was biting down on his lip.  
“Red or yellow?”  
Duo shook his head.  
“‘S fine. Just burns a little.”  
Trowa nodded.  
“Tell me when it doesn’t.”  
Duo nodded as well, drew in several deep breaths, and then shifted his hips a little, pushed himself down on Trowa’s cock.  
“Oh fuck,” Duo swore.  
“Re -”  
“Green. Really fucking green,” Duo interrupted and Trowa chuckled.  
He eased further into Duo, looking down to see his cock fully seated in Duo’s body. He felt so tight, so amazingly tight.  
“That feels so much more than your fingers.”  
Trowa snorted and leaned down to press a hard kiss to Duo’s mouth.  
“I’m glad my cock is more than my fingers.”  
“So much more,” Duo corrected and then groaned when Trowa pulled out and slowly pushed back in. “Jesus. Trowa, that feels incredible.”  
“Yes it does,” Trowa agreed.  
He continued to thrust slowly, pulling almost all of the way out and then pushing back in, letting both of them adjust and it was only when Duo started to meet his thrusts, started to push back, that Trowa let himself move harder and faster.  
“Oh fuck, yes. I like that, Tro.” Duo moaned.  
Trowa braced Duo’s leg with one hand and used his other to start stroking Duo’s cock.  
“Mhm, yes. Oh fuck yes, Tro.”  
If Duo was always going to be this vocal, Trowa was going to have a hard time not fucking him all of the time. It was amazing to see him like this, his head thrown back against the pillows, his face and chest flushed, his lip caught between his teeth and his hips moving in time with Trowa’s thrusts.  
“Tro - please can I - fuck - Tro please can I come?”  
“Yes. Yes, Duo.” Trowa had to pant, his own breath short as he neared climax as well.  
Duo came with sudden force, his body spasming around Trowa and it drew out Trowa’s orgasm as well, taking him off guard.  
“Oh, Duo!” He cried out, the force of his orgasm so much stronger than he had expected.  
He go of Duo’s leg and eased out of his body before laying down on the bed beside him.  
Duo rolled his head over to look at him.   
“Thank you.”  
Trowa pulled him close, wrapping one arm around Duo’s shoulders and letting Duo shift closer to put his head on Trowa’s chest.  
“Thank you,” Trowa responded, both of them meaning so much more than just the sex.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I am NOT an expert on BDSM. But I’m trying to be better than 50 Shades so… that’s something, I think.  
A/N #2: Um… fair warning, this is not just porn without plot. So just… keep a weathered eye to the horizon, I guess?  
A/N #3: And I’m back!

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter Eight

The new act was a great success. The audiences loved seeing Trowa dangling over the tank of water, wrapped in chains and struggling for freedom. They gasped in shock when he was dropped into the tank, their shouts of encouragement and cries of anxiety garbled noise while he was submerged. Their cheers, when he emerged, free of the chains, were deafening.  
It was silly, it was staged, the actual danger was minimal, but the audience bought into it. They truly believed he was seconds from death every night and every night they celebrated his escape.  
Cathy looked smug as hell when they bowed, every damn performance, and while part of Trowa might be able to admit that she and Shandor had been right - the trick was fantastic - and while he didn’t begrudge Cathy her right to rub his nose it, he couldn’t help but feel on edge.  
The fact that nearly a quarter of their audiences wore black shirts and red bandanas was more than enough to unsettle him, more than enough to keep him awake late into the night as he tried to think of all the possibilities for the future.  
But then there were the muttered comments, mostly directed towards Besnik, Shandor, August and Trowa.   
Terran. Collaborator.  
It would be ridiculous if the situation wasn’t so tense.   
Trowa was a Terran, as were most of the members of the troupe, and most of the men looked it - tall and muscular and tanned. He had always stood out when he tried to blend in with colonists, but he had never felt his heritage threatened his life.   
He had also never been called a collaborator. Well, a few times, during the war when he had served with OZ, but not before and certainly not since. It was funny - here he was, a former Gundam pilot, a former terrorist who had fought for the colonies and because of the way he looked he was labelled as the enemy.  
If Trowa had been the only one to draw attention to himself he wouldn’t have minded so much, but when the circus patrons looked around at the performers and frowned, when they drank too much and lingered too long, he knew it was going to be a problem. Not yet, but soon.  
In the two months since Duo’s arrest and subsequent release things had seemingly quieted down on the colonies. While the presence of black shirts had increased - while three more videos featuring the soulful Micah Vaughn had been released - no major incidents had occurred. A few riots, but nothing as bad as Trowa had feared. Not yet, but soon.  
Because all of this felt like simmering anger, like rage just waiting to boil over and Trowa knew it was coming. He knew that one of these nights something would happen, some group of blackshirts would storm the circus grounds or the troupe would be caught out on a colony when a major riot erupted or Duo would die.  
Trowa hated how much of his brain Duo occupied. Hated how often he found himself tempted to contact Wufei to ask about Duo. Hated how every mention of the blackshirts had him remembering Micah Vaughn speaking about Duo as though he owned him, as though Duo was as much a part of this future rebellion as Vaughn himself.   
He thought back to that first night, all those months ago, when he had teased Duo until he confessed his attraction to Trowa. He wondered how different things would be now if that had never happened, or if he had never pursued it. They had been friends, and Trowa had cared about Duo, had found himself idly wondering about him from time to time, but it hadn’t been like this.  
Duo hadn’t been his before. And that, Trowa knew, made all the difference.   
Things would have been complicated enough, trying to have a relationship with Duo, trying to establish a tenuous bond that would hold up over their long separations. But this wasn’t just any relationship, and these weren’t just any separations. Every time Trowa saw Duo, he knew there was a very real possibility that it would be the last time, and he also knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.  
Feeling helpless wasn’t something new for Trowa, and while he might be accustomed to the feeling, he sure as hell didn’t welcome it. But he was helpless. Helpless to protect Duo, helpless to keep him. Helpless to forget him.  
And, as it turned out, helpless not to feel overwhelming relief when Duo finally turned up in his trailer one night, almost three months after Trowa had last seen him.  
The relief quickly dissipated, however.  
Duo wasn’t in his spot, wasn’t naked and kneeling and eager.  
He was fully clothed, except for his boots, neatly arranged by the kitchen table, and sitting on the couch with a half empty bottle of whiskey beside him.  
Trowa found himself hesitating, as he looked between the bottle and Duo’s tired eyes, his pale, drawn face and slightly tousled hair. It looked as though he had been here for a while, looked as if he had been battling his demons and Trowa hadn’t seen him like this in years.  
Before when they had gotten drunk together, had gone out and bought a bottle of decent liquor and worked industriously to empty it as they sat together on the couch and emptied their memories to each other. But Duo didn’t usually start alone, and he didn’t usually look this lost.  
Trowa toed off his shoes and sat down on the couch, situated himself at the opposite end so that he could look at Duo. He picked up the whiskey and took a long swallow, fighting against the burn and his urge to cough.  
He held the bottle out and Duo took it, drank deeply before passing it back.  
For twenty minutes they sat in silence, until the bottle was nearly empty.  
“This place is the nearest thing I have to a home. You people are the closest thing I have to a family.”  
Duo’s voice was rough, gravelly with lack of sleep, slightly slurred from the whiskey, harsh with emotion.  
Trowa swallowed hard. What the fuck had happened? He wanted to pull off Duo’s clothes, wanted to inspect his body, to see what new wounds, what new scars, what new tattoos marked him, but he suspected that whatever had happened to Duo wasn’t physical, wasn’t some superficial mark.  
“I always told myself I was doing this for you - for the circus. Told myself this was about protecting you. Told myself that whatever I did, it was fine, because it meant Sylvan could grow up and not have to worry about fighting in a war. Anything to stop another war, yanno?” Duo shook his head and finished off the whiskey. “But I was lying to myself. Justifying myself. So full of shit, so fucking broken…” he shook his head and ran one hand through his bangs and his hair, carelessly tugging at the braid.  
Duo drew in a deep breath and met Trowa’s gaze and Trowa was taken aback by his anger, by his self-hatred and despair.  
“I wanted to come here and make you punish me. Wanted you to treat me exactly the way I deserve - wanted you to turn your back on me. I fucking - I deserve it so damn much but I’m too much of a coward. I wanted you to hate me but I… I need you not to hate me.”  
“I don’t hate you, Duo. I won’t hate you.” Trowa’s own voice sounded harsh, sounded too loud and sharp after Duo’s confession.  
Duo shook his head.   
“No, you don’t know. You don’t - you’d hate me, Trowa. God, you’d hate me and never fucking forgive me.”  
“No,” Trowa said again, “I would not.” It was clear Duo was struggling with himself, struggling with what he had done and in this moment, probably more than any previously, he needed to empty himself, needed to submit and feel nothing but pain, nothing but pleasure, nothing but what Trowa gave him.  
But Duo was also drunk, and Trowa, while not as far gone as Duo, was far from sober himself.  
Trowa sighed.   
“Why weren’t you waiting for me?”  
Duo gave a dark chuckle.  
“Still nursing a broken rib and a few other souvenirs.”  
“There are other -”  
“I didn’t want you to torture me with pleasure, Trowa. I don’t - I’m not good enough for that. Not now. I wish to hell I didn’t have these damn bruises because it would have felt good to have you beat me. But I can’t - I can’t let you make me feel good.”  
“Tell me what happened.”  
But Duo shook his head, looked away from Trowa’s eyes.  
“No. I - no.”  
“Then why the hell did you come here, Duo? What do you want from me?”  
Duo shook his head again and got up from the couch, a little unsteady on his feet.  
“Nothing. I had to. I - fuck, this whole thing has been a mistake.” He moved towards his boots but Trowa got up from the couch and intercepted him, stopped him and pinned his arms to his sides when Duo tried to shove him away.  
“This whole thing?” He repeated.  
Duo met his gaze again, and Trowa could see the determination in his face, the hardened resolve. It seemed that Duo had decided he did want Trowa to turn his back on him after all.  
Well, hadn’t Trowa said from the beginning that Duo didn’t really know what he wanted or needed?  
“Yeah,” Duo said, his voice cold, hard. “This whole thing.”  
Trowa kissed him, offered him no comfort, no softness, just attacked with his lips and teeth and tongue and Duo fought, pushed against the arms restraining him and tried to pull away but when Trowa’s teeth caught his lip, bit down just hard enough to be painful, Duo groaned.  
He didn’t stop fighting Trowa, though, even as Trowa backed him up against a wall and pinned him in place with his legs and his right hand and started to undress Duo with his left, pushing away Duo’s hand when he tried to stop him.  
He continued the assault with his mouth, plunged his tongue deep into Duo’s mouth, nearly into his throat and Duo groaned again, rocked against him and his hands fisted in Trowa’s shirt.  
Trowa shoved Duo’s shirt off his shoulders and stepped back, released Duo’s mouth and body and he looked at him in the dim kitchen light.  
He could clearly see the four inch long, jagged cut across Duo’s stomach. He reached out, traced the stitches that held the sides of the wound closed and then let his hand trail upwards, over the fading bruises on Duo’s chest, on his side, up to the fingerprint bruises around his neck.  
Trowa felt something clench deep inside him. He thought about Sylvan, about the marks around her throat.   
“Tell me,” he said again, hearing desperation in his own voice.  
“I can’t.” The fight had gone out of Duo’s voice, his resolve had broken, but his self-hatred was still there.  
Trowa knew that things had changed, irrevocably. Between them, with the world. Duo had always been private, had never explained his injuries to Trowa. But he had never shown up having come this close to death before.  
Trowa held his gaze for a long moment and when Duo didn’t look away he did. He bent his head and pressed his lips against Duo’s neck. He dragged his open mouth and tongue over the bruises and Duo drew in a shuddering breath and Trowa felt him shift, felt Duo's right hand tangle in the hair at the back of Trowa's neck.  
Trowa reached down and unfastened Duo's pants and shoved them down with him boxers and Duo moved his legs, stepped out of the tangle of clothes and Trowa ran his hands over Duo's back, feeling the rough edge of another wound.  
He wanted to pull away, wanted to examine Duo's body and see the damage, to see just how close Duo had come to dying but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't look over Duo now and not do or say something that would push Duo away.  
So he pulled him close and kissed his mouth again until Duo was kissing him back and mumbling something.  
Trowa pulled away.  
"What?"  
"Please," Duo said, his eyes closed, his fingers curled into Trowa's hair.  
"Please, what?"  
"I want- I need you, Trowa. Damn it all to hell, I need you."  
"You have me, Duo."  
Trowa smoothed away Duo's bangs and waited for him to open his eyes and meet his gaze.  
"When I said you were mine, Duo, I meant that I'm yours."  
Duo swallowed hard.  
"Trowa- I can't- I'm not-"  
"It's just us, Duo. Just us, right here. The rest of the Earthsphere can burn down, but right now, this is just about you and me."  
Duo offered him a dark smirk.  
"You're just saying that because you want it all to burn down."  
"Maybe," Trowa agreed.  
He tugged on Duo's bangs and Duo arched into the touch.  
“Tell me what you need.”  
“Make me forget I have to leave.”  
Trowa wondered how carefully Duo had chosen the words. It seemed as though the whisky had done little to dull his mind, and certainly his speech was less slurred now than it had been moments ago. It seemed as though he had chosen the exact words that would hurt both of them.  
But that was fine. Trowa had long ago disciplined himself to accept pain.  
“Beg me,” he countered.  
Duo’s eyes narrowed and Trowa watched him consider the command.  
“Please, Tro, make me forget.” His voice was soft and his breathing shallow.  
Trowa kissed him again and pulled him close, away from the wall and Duo’s arms went to his shoulders, the one place Duo was allowed to touch him.  
Trowa walked them into the bedroom but didn’t bother to turn on a light. Later, if there was time, he would look at Duo. But right now it wouldn’t help anything. Duo didn’t need his scrutiny, not right now. He simply needed to belong to Trowa.  
“Lay down on the bed.”  
Duo did as ordered, laying on his back and stretching out, the dim kitchen light barely illuminating him.  
Trowa knelt beside the bed and pulled out his case. He removed the blindfold and the four fabric ties.  
Duo watched him stand back up and drop the blindfold to the bed.  
“Stretch out your arms and legs.”  
Duo licked his lips.  
“You’re going to have to let me go eventually.”  
Trowa stared at him. He knew that, but if Duo was going to fight him on this, he really wasn’t sure where to go with it. He knew the only way he could make Duo forget he had to leave was to make him forget that anywhere else existed, that anyone else existed.  
After a moment, Duo stretched out.  
Trowa tied the knots securely, tight enough that when Duo tugged on them they cut into his skin. Duo gave him a look.  
“You can get out, if you try,” Trowa assured him. “And I will release you as soon as you ask.”  
Duo nodded and Trowa crawled onto the bed so that he could blindfold Duo.   
He heard his breath catch as his sight was taken away.   
Trowa had always found it difficult to relax in a blindfold, even while performing. It reminded him too much of space, of floating in the darkness towards his own death.  
But Duo loved space, more than Trowa ever had. Perhaps, hopefully, he was comforted by the darkness.  
Trowa ran his fingers over Duo’s chest, down to the cut on his belly. It was close to his liver, too close, and Duo could have bled out, could have died from that. Or from whatever wound Trowa had felt on his back, low and close to his spine.  
Duo shifted under his touch, tried to shy away from his fingers.  
“Tell me if it hurts, but you can not move away from my touch,” he warned Duo. He ran the palms of his hands back up Duo’s sides, over his peaked nipples. “This is mine, remember.”  
Duo nodded.  
Trowa leaned down licked Duo’s right nipple, swirling his tongue around the hard nub and then he took it into his mouth and sucked on it.  
Duo moaned and then hissed when Trowa bit down.  
“Feels good,” he said, and the slur was back now. Trowa realized that forcing Duo to lay still would likely make him feel any lingering inebriation even more.   
He switched to the other side, biting down immediately and Duo jerked upwards before he could stop himself.  
Trowa continued in that fashion over Duo’s chest and thighs, alternating between kissing, lickign and biting while Duo moaned, gasped and hissed, occasionally speaking up or crying out.  
After nearly half an hour, Duo’s cock was stiff and wet with precum and his hips jerked involuntarily when Trowa finally licked the head of his cock.  
“Oh God,” Duo moaned.  
Trowa held him still, hands firm but gentle on his hips, as he sucked on Duo’s cock, drawing the heavy length deep into his throat.  
As his mouth worked over Duo’s cock Trowa traced his fingers down to Duo’s ass, feathered across his anus and Duo shifted, tried to spread his legs even further apart for Trowa.  
“Please,” Duo’s voice cracked. “Please can I come?”  
Trowa pulled back.  
“Not yet.”  
Duo sucked in a deep breath, but he didn’t try to argue.  
Trowa moved away from Duo and reached for the lube in his nightstand. He smeared some on his fingers and returned to Duo and slowly started to finger him, teasing Duo, tormenting him with shallow thrusts of his fingers.  
“Please, I need more.”  
“Do you?”   
Trowa kissed him, surprising Duo momentarily before Duo kissed him back.  
“Please,” Duo said against his lips as Trowa pulled back.  
Trowa pushed his fingers deeper into Duo’s body and pressed against his prostate.  
Duo moaned.  
“God. Yes. Fuck. Trowa that feels so good.”  
Trowa continued to fuck Duo with his fingers, until Duo was writhing under him.  
“Come for me, Duo.”  
Duo’s body jerked against him and shuddered. Trowa leaned down to lick up his cum, sucking on Duo’s over-sensitive cock until it was clean.  
“Thank you.”  
Trowa kissed him again.  
“You’re welcome.”

-o-

In the morning Trowa was slow to wake. Duo’s side of the bed was empty and the sheets cool. He had likely been up for hours already and Trowa wondered if he was even still here, or if he had slipped away while Trowa was still asleep.  
Duo had never done that before.  
But then, nothing like last night had ever transpired before.  
Eventually, Trowa realized that he was wasting time and he forced himself to get out of the bed. He showered, scrubbing his skin almost raw under the hot water as he thought about Duo’s body, as he tried to imagine just what Duo had done - what had happened to him.  
Trowa was tempted to call Wufei. The Preventer agent knew something - certainly knew more about Duo than Trowa did - and Trowa was feeling almost desperate and angry enough to question him.  
But he knew, even without trying, that Wufei would tell him nothing. Duo would tell him nothing.   
He dressed and made his way over to Shandor’s trailer and he was surprised to see Duo sitting inside with the magician, drinking coffee.  
Duo looked up when he entered and Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“Waiting for Sylvan to get up,” Duo said. “I looked at the equipment but everything is in good shape.”  
Trowa nodded.   
After he and Duo had gone their separate ways on X1256 Trowa had caught back up with the circus and every day since he had spent every spare moment seeing to the equipment, putting it in the best possible condition that he could, teaching Sylvan everything he knew as they worked together.  
Shandor poured Trowa a coffee and Trowa sat down at the table with them.  
“We were talking about your new routine. Wish I could see it.”  
Trowa nodded and sipped on the coffee. He wasn’t sure what Duo wanted him to say. Wasn’t sure what he could say.  
Shandor sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall of his kitchen.  
“August should be finished by now, Duo. Go and see him.”  
Duo finished his coffee and rose without another word, leaving the trailer.  
Trowa watched him walk across the grounds.  
“Moj cenny jeden.”  
Trowa winced and couldn’t bring himself to look at Shandor. He had never heard him use that tone, never heard his voice that gentle before.  
“Have you never thought to go with him?”  
Trowa did look at Shandor then.  
“What?”  
Shandor didn’t bother to repeat his question.  
Trowa frowned and shook his head.  
“I can’t. I can’t leave the circus. Cathy -” he stopped himself. Cathy what? Needed him for her act? She had done just fine without him when he had stayed behind for Duo before. Sylvan and Besnik had kept all of the equipment in working order. Pesha had likely been relieved not to have Trowa underfoot.  
He realized that he wasn’t even needed at the circus, and it left him feeling hollow, empty in the worst way possible.  
“This is your home,” Shandor assured him. “And you will always be needed here, Trowa, but we can survive without you.”  
Trowa met Shandor’s dark gaze.  
“Can you survive without him?”  
Trowa swallowed hard and shook his head.  
“No,” he admitted to the both of them.  
Shandor held his gaze until Trowa sighed.  
“So I’m supposed to just pack up a bag and follow him to God knows where and do God knows what?”  
“Yes.”  
Trowa snorted.  
“I cannot believe that you, of all people, are telling me to follow him around - like a pet.”  
“You belong to him just as much as he belongs to you,” Shandor reminded him.   
“I fucking know that.”  
Trowa clenched his hands into fists and drew in a deep breath.   
“There’s going to be another war, Shandor. And it won’t be as clean as the last one. The sides won’t be so obvious - and more innocent people are going to die.”  
Shandor arched an eyebrow.  
“All the more reason to be fighting beside him then, isn’t there?”  
“What about the troupe? What about Cathy and Sylvan? What about -”  
“We survived before you, Trowa.”  
“This isn’t going to be like the last war, Shandor! You’re a Terran - almost every damn one of us is a Terran. This isn’t about supporting OZ or the Alliance - this is about the colonists wanted you dead.”  
“We will not run away to Earth and hide, Trowa.”  
Trowa ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Shandor was talking him into a corner, refusing to back down, battering away at all of Trowa’s logic.  
“August asked to see Duo before he left,” Shandor spoke into the tense silence.  
Trowa looked up at him.  
“Why?”  
“He wants Duo to stay with the troupe.”  
Trowa frowned.  
“Why the hell didn’t we start this conversation with that?”  
Shandor gave him a patronizing look.  
“Will he say yes?”  
“No,” Trowa growled. Duo would not say yes. Duo would not stay.  
Shandor said nothing, just looked at Trowa until Trowa couldn’t stand to be under the piercing weight of his gaze any longer.  
He got to his feet and left the trailer.  
Trowa spent the next hour walking the grounds, inspecting the animals and some of the outlying trailers.  
But everyone and everything was safe. It was as if the universe wanted to mock Trowa for his fears, for his conviction that something would go horribly wrong if he turned his back on the circus for even a second.  
He forced himself to consider what Shandor had said, forced himself to think about the possibility of just leaving, of going with Duo when he left.  
By the time he made his way over to Sylvan’s trailer he had admitted to himself that he wanted nothing more than to go with Duo. He needed to go with him, to be with him, to be at his side as he faced whatever danger lay ahead.  
Duo and Sylvan were outside, sitting on the steps leading up to the trailer, and they appeared to be deep in conversation.  
“...tell them the Diplomat. And you have to get this right, Sylvan, or they’ll kill you. You remember it?”  
Duo was looking at the teenager intently, his face and voice grim.  
Sylvan nodded.  
“I remember it,” she assured him, her voice barely loud enough for Trowa to hear.  
“Watch out for him, will ya? Don’t let him do anything stupid.”  
Sylvan hugged Duo, wrapped her thin arms around his black clad frame and after a pause, Duo hugged her back, tucking her head on his shoulder.  
It was in that moment that Duo looked up and saw Trowa watching them.  
Duo held his gaze even as he held onto Sylvan, and Trowa knew that he would not be leaving the circus to go with Duo.  
Eventually, Sylvan pulled away and Duo stood. He ruffled her hair and grinned down at her.  
“Don’t let him break any of the equipment either, ok? I’m leaving you in charge of all repairs, brat.”  
Sylvan rubbed at her eyes and then glanced towards Trowa. She nodded, but instead of speaking she went back into her trailer.  
Duo shoved his hands into his pockets and regarded Trowa.  
“August wants you to stay.”  
Duo nodded.  
“So do you.”  
“You said yourself, this is your family, your home.”  
Duo scowled.  
“It is,” he agreed. “But I don’t get to have a home or a family, Tro.” He offered Trowa a sad smile. “Doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me.”  
“Duo -”  
“Don’t, Tro. Please.” Duo held up a hand and the look in his eyes was that of a man begging for a stay of execution. Duo knew what he had been about to say, knew that Trowa had been on the verge of committing himself to leaving with him.  
Trowa nodded and Duo’s shoulders drooped in relief.  
“I, ah, I don’t know when I’ll be back again.”  
Trowa arched an eyebrow.  
“Don’t tell me you’ve been operating on a schedule this whole time?”  
Duo chuckled.  
“No, no, I haven’t. But things… everything is about to go to shit, Tro, and I’m going to be stuck on the other side of it.”  
There was so much Trowa wanted to say, but nothing that he could say.  
“I… well, I don’t guess there’s any chance you can convince them to go to Earth for the next forever or so?” Duo asked Trowa.  
He shook his head.  
“Worth asking,” Duo mumbled. He stepped closer to Trowa, close enough that Trowa could reach out and touch him, could lace the fingers of his left hand with Duo’s right.  
Duo squeezed his hand.  
“I need you to live through this thing, Trowa,” Duo said. “I need to know you’re going to be safe, that this is all going to be worth it.”  
Trowa wanted to turn the words back at Duo - wanted to tell Duo that he needed those things as well.  
But they didn’t have that kind of relationship. It was Trowa’s obligation to see to Duo’s needs, to know what he really wanted and needed and to give that to him.  
And Duo needed this. Needed his assurance and his acceptance.  
“I survived six months as Une’s personal lackey when I was undercover during the war,” he reminded Duo. “I can survive this.”  
Duo’s lips twitched as he tried to appreciate the humor of Trowa’s words.  
“Please,” Duo said once again, before he released Trowa’s hand and walked away.

-o-


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: A little on the short side, I know.

Warnings: language, sex, violence, BDSM, angst  
Pairings: 2x3

Sideshow  
Chapter Nine

“I’m pregnant.”  
Cathy had trapped Trowa in his trailer, catching him there before he could even join Shandor for his morning coffee.  
He stared at her and tried to process her words. He found himself looking at her abdomen, as if it would suddenly enlarge to demonstrate the veracity of her words.  
Cathy saw him glance downwards and arched an eyebrow.   
He looked away, angry with himself for blushing, and he felt like an idiot.  
But aside from feeling like an idiot... He couldn't really wrap his head around the idea, couldn't figure out how he should feel or how he was supposed to feel.   
He tried to think about Cathy, hugely pregnant, throwing knives at him or flipping through the air towards him on the trapeze.   
He had been quiet for too long, and Cathy gave an angry huff.  
“Is this a good thing?” He asked cautiously.  
She glared at him, but after a moment the look softened and she sighed and then sat down on his couch.  
Trowa sat down beside her and she leaned against his shoulder.  
He put an arm around her and tangled his fingers in her loose hair.  
“I don’t know,” she admitted in a whisper.  
He waited for her continue. He had learned, over the years, that pushing Cathy to talk usually meant getting yelled at, her storming out, and then stomping back in later and yelling at him some more.  
“We’ve wanted this, we’ve been trying for years.”  
“I know. You used to live here. I had to listen -”  
She elbowed him sharply and he grunted in pain.  
“Anyway,” she continued after clearing her throat, “Besnik and I want children. But is this - everything seems ready to explode again. I worry, Trowa.”  
He had never had parents. Cathy was the closest thing to a maternal figure he had ever had - and even she was more of a sister to him. Trowa thought about Simza, and he wondered if Cathy had thought to speak to her. But then again - if Cathy wanted advice from a mother she would have gone to Simza. But she had come to Trowa, her brother by circumstance, the man who had once been a terrorist, a child soldier in a war that should have ended all wars.  
He sighed.  
“I saw a news vid about space debris falling down in someone’s backyard on Earth and killing a boy playing outside.”  
Cathy pulled away and looked at him with wide eyes.  
“What - Trowa that’s terrible.”  
He shrugged.  
“It happens. Things happen. Wars happen, things fall from space. Enviro controls stop working and water gets contaminated and -”  
“Stop,” she interrupted him, holding her hands up. “Just stop.”  
She shook her head and snorted, and then started to laugh.  
From years of experience, Trowa knew what that laugh was - it was Cathy laughing at him.  
He waited until she had regained control of herself and then glared at her. She started to laugh again.  
“Oh, Trowa,” she gasped while wiping tears from her eyes, “was that you trying to… comfort me?”  
He crossed his arms.  
“I was only saying that terrible things happen all of the time. It’s not something you can plan for.”  
“So you told me a story about a little boy dying to make me feel better about being pregnant.”  
“What else was I supposed to say?”  
“I don’t know, literally anything not involving dead boys?”  
He couldn’t help but scowl. If she’d wanted saccharine comfort then she should have gone elsewhere. She knew he wasn’t good with this kind of thing, knew he didn’t -  
“But I understand what you’re trying to say,” she continued, voice more sober.  
She leaned against him again, and after a moment he gave in and put his arm back around her.  
“Things will get better.”  
He wasn’t sure if it was a question or not, so he remained silent.  
“We’ll make it through this Trowa. All of us.”  
He knew what she was hinting at - she had only been trying to get him to talk about Duo for the past two months, ever since he left for the last time - but he refused to be drawn into a conversation about him.  
“At least that means I’ll be here to teach the kid how to fix her hair,” he said.  
Cathy huffed.  
“My child is not going to start wearing their hair in some asymmetrical mask thing.”  
“At least my hair is styled.” He plucked at her wild curls. “Have you even heard of a brush?”  
“Remember that time I slapped you because I love you?”  
“Vividly.”  
“I’m feeling a lot of love at this moment.”  
Trowa snorted a laugh.  
“I’ll just bet you are.”

-o-

After Trowa finished packing up the animal’s gear he went in search of Sylvan. He had asked her to make sure the refrigeration unit in the concessions cart was in good shape before they left M4120.  
He found the cart - the unit humming away quietly, the strange, rattling sound he had noticed yesterday gone - but no sign of Sylvan.  
Eventually he tracked her down in front of Nadya’s trailer, sitting on the folding chair Nadya kept outside, watching something on a tablet.  
She looked up at his approach, and Trowa couldn’t help but remember a time, not so long ago, when Sylvan would get lost in a task - reading, watching her tablet - and ignore the world moving around her. He fought back his anger at the knowledge that she would likely never be that at ease or that immersed in something again.  
He jerked his head at the tablet.  
“What are you watching?”  
“A new vid.”  
She didn’t need to say what it was. He knew.  
Trowa walked over to stand behind her and she angled the tablet screen so that he could see Micah’s Vaughn’s open face and his sincere brown eyes.  
“...truly free. Liberation comes at the cost of comfort, and it is the responsibility and the right of every human. We came to the colonies for freedom, for opportunity and for the sake of the future. Do not let the Terrans take the future from us the same way they stole the past. The time to act is now, the time to liberate is today. Rise up with your brothers and sisters and let us take the future that was meant for us, the future that we have bled for and the future that we shall have.”  
The words, the passion in Vaughn’s eyes, sent a chill down Trowa’s spine.  
When Duo had left two months ago, Trowa had thought that any day could be the today Vaughn spoke of. He had woken up every morning anticipating news of riots, of revolutions, of deaths and nothing had happened.  
For two months it had just been Trowa’s nightmares, just his fears and his tension. He wasn’t alone, wasn’t the only one that felt the sharp, curled edge of anxiety burrowing deeper every day.   
Nadya, Besnik and Pesha seemed just as on edge as Trowa, just as wary as they looked over the crowds at the circus, their lips just as thin and tight when they spotted someone wearing a black shirt and a red bandana.  
But nothing had happened. It had been months of nothing, and Trowa found himself in the dangerous position of wanting to disregard this newest message from Micah Vaughn.  
The Brotherhood seemed to release a new vid every two weeks, all filled with the same phrases, the same generic propaganda, but this was the first time Vaughn had ever said today.  
Sylvan was looking at him.  
“Did you help your mom pack up your trailer?” He asked and immediately felt like a coward when she frowned.  
He sighed and crouched down beside her chair.  
“When I was a soldier I never really thought about the future, Sylvan.”  
Her frown changed, softened, as she tried to figure out where he was going.  
“I had the mission - I had the battle - I had that moment, that day, and I never planned for what would happen next because I was always convinced death was what happened next.”  
She glanced at the dark screen of the tablet, as if wondering what Trowa’s words could possibly have to do with what she had just seen.  
Trowa sighed.  
“I didn’t start thinking about the future until I came back to the circus, after the war. I never thought I had a future, until I came back.” He nodded at the tablet. “And my future - the one that I think about, the one that I dream about - isn’t the future he’s talking about.”  
“Is mine?” The question was spoken with a mixture of fear and curiosity that reminded Trowa of being that age, of no longer being innocent and still being helpless.  
“Do you want it to be?”  
“Do I have a say in it?”  
Trowa shrugged.  
“Yes. He’s telling you to get up and fight for what he believes in. You can follow him, or you can let his words make you afraid, or you can decide what you want, what you believe in and you can follow that.”  
It wasn’t the same as the speech that Heero had given Trowa all those years ago, about following his emotions, but now that he had said the words Trowa knew it was similar, knew he was drawing on his own past and he was conflicted. He desperately wanted Sylvan’s future to be nothing like his past, and he wanted almost as much for his future to be nothing like his past.   
But when Micah Vaughn with his soulful eyes said words like today, the past felt all too close for Trowa, and the future impossible.  
Trowa stood up.  
“Go help your mom. Besnik and I are taking the first load down to the ‘port and August wants us off colony in five hours.”  
Sylvan stood up as well, and Trowa walked with her back to Simza’s trailer.  
“Duo’s fighting,” Sylvan said.  
Trowa shrugged. Probably. He still wondered what Duo had said to Sylvan that last day.  
“But you won’t.”  
“I wont’ leave the circus to fight,” he corrected.   
“He thinks he’s going to die.”  
Trowa swallowed hard and fought back his emotions at those words.   
“He said that?”  
She shook her head.   
“No, he said something about the God of Death owing him a few favors or something but he - he talked about us like he was never going to come back.”  
Trowa sighed.  
“He’s survived a lot, Sylvan.”  
She nodded.  
“He said that too.”  
“He can survive this.”  
She didn’t look so confident, and Trowa didn’t feel so confident himself, not considering the state Duo had been in the last time Trowa had seen him.  
He had tried not to think about it, had actively forced himself to stop thinking about the bruises on Duo’s body, the just healed wounds. But he had little control over his dreams, his nightmares, and all too often Duo was a starring character in those, and all too often he was dead or dying in Trowa’s arms.  
“Look, he’s doing what he has to - and we have to do the same,” Trowa said, knowing it was lame, knowing it was the kind of excuse you gave when you had nothing else to say. But he had nothing else to say.  
But Sylvan thankfully nodded and went into her trailer and Trowa went to track down Besnik.  
Besnik, Pesha and Nicholae were loading up the first truck to be taken to the ‘port as Trowa approached.  
They were carefree, joking with each other and then with Trowa when he walked up, razzing him about missing out on the heavy lifting.  
They hadn’t seen the vid, it was obvious, and while Trowa didn’t want to dampen their spirits, he couldn’t find it in himself to join in. He looked at the three men, at their broad shoulders and their tall, lean bodies and it was impossible not to identify them as Terrans.   
He swallowed back the thick lump in his throat.  
Today.  
“We need to move out,” he said to Besnik. “August wants us out of here as soon as possible.”  
Besnik knew him better than Nicholae and Pesha. Besnik knew when Trowa and Cathy’s bickering crossed into dangerous territory and he knew when Trowa was tense and unhappy.  
“Yeah, yeah,” Besnik said and tossed Trowa the truck keys. “You guys start loading the next truck.”  
Besnik waited until they were in the cab and halfway to the ‘port before he spoke to Trowa.  
“Cathy told you.”  
Trowa glanced over at him and frowned.  
“Cathy knows?”  
Besnik arched an eyebrow.  
“Yes? It’s… her baby.”  
Trowa shook his head and had to laugh.  
“No. Yes, yes she told me about that.”  
“What were you talking about?”  
“The vid that the Brotherhood just released - calling for the revolution to start today.”  
Besnik frowned.  
“Haven’t they been calling for the revolution for months now?”  
“Not as specifically as saying today,” Trowa muttered.  
“Still, nothing’s happened since Duo was released. It’s almost as if -”  
Besnik trailed off.  
Ahead of them traffic was at a standstill. Beyond the line of cars and cargo trucks was the spaceport, and in between - lines of people, smoke, and fires.  
Trowa rolled down his window. They were half a mile from the ‘port, but he could hear it - gunfire, shouting - the sounds of war.  
The knot was back, choking his throat, and he felt his stomach roll as the smoke reached them and burned his nostrils.  
And then Besnik got out of the truck.  
“Besnik!” Trowa called out to him, but the contortionist was running towards the ‘port.  
Trowa swore.  
He wanted nothing more than to stay as far the hell away from whatever was happening - he didn’t want to be part of this. He didn’t want to kill again, he didn’t want to fight - but he didn’t want to lose his family.  
And Besnik, the stupid asshole, was his family.  
Trowa wrenched the cab door open, jumped down, and ran after him.  
He caught up to Besnik just as the other man came to a stop, just as they reached the line of black shirted colonists shoving their way towards the thin line of colonial MPs protecting the ‘port.  
“We shouldn’t be here,” Trowa hissed at Besnik and reached for his arm.  
But Besnik shrugged him off just as the MPs started to shoot.  
Trowa pushed Besnik down, shoving him to the ground and keeping him there.  
“Get off!” Besnik shouted and tried to squirm free.  
Besnik had a few pounds on Trowa, but Trowa had a lifetime of desperation on Besnik. He fought to keep the other man down, even when the gunfire continued, when people around them started to run and scream and -  
Someone pulled Trowa to his feet.  
He struggled against him, unable to see clearly in the smoke, but then he came face to face with a child.   
Surely a child - he looked as young as Trowa had been when he piloted a Gundam - and he was wearing a colonial MP uniform.  
“It’s not safe,” the child said. “You have to leave here. Go before something happens to you.”  
Trowa stared at him in disbelief, feeling a strange sense of deja vu while at the same time feeling old and alien.  
“Please, you have to go - there are too -”  
The child stopped, his mouth dropped open in surprise and he gasped and clutched his chest.  
Trowa looked down and he saw the blossom of red blood on the child’s uniform.  
“Besnik!”  
The contortionist was there with him, grabbing the boy and helping Trowa carry him away, away from the smoke and the screams and the gunfire.


End file.
